


When Queens Misbehave

by luvxena



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Consensual, Dream Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fingerfucking, Homoeroticism, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pegging, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:56:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvxena/pseuds/luvxena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of very, very smutty fics under the title of “When Queens Misbehave” that has Sansa Stark, now the Queen in the North, misbehaving with her sworn shield and lover Sandor Clegane.</p><p>Each story is roughly self-contained but follows a certain timeline. However, to make things simple each of them will be published as a new chapter under the “When Queens Misbehave” title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Queens Misbehave 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Comment Fic Meme No. 2](http://sansa-sandor.livejournal.com/68611.html) on [sansa_sandor](http://sansa-sandor.livejournal.com/) from [the_moonmoth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/the_moonmoth/works)’s prompt: Spanking!
> 
> A few changes have been made from the original text.
> 
> This has been Un-Beta'd and English is my second language. Please forgive any grammatical and spelling mistakes that may have crept in.

**When Queens Misbehave 1**

 

Sandor Clegane had had enough. It was one thing to be the sworn shield – as well as the Lord Commander of the Queensguard – of one Sansa _fucking_ Stark, the Queen in the North; it was another to let her make a fool of him in front of her small council by telling him that he couldn't bloody well lead a party against a group of unruly wildlings that had started raiding the surrounding small villages and holdfasts.

“What do you mean I can't lead a party to stop those buggering wildlings from harassing your own people,” he snarled at her when they were alone in her room.

It was well-known in Winterfell that the former Lannister Hound was bedding and pleasuring their queen almost every night. They never made a secret of it and even if they'd tried, their lovemaking was often so loud that it was impossible for anyone _not to know_ they were lovers. In fact, it was the worst-kept secret in the whole castle.

Sansa looked up at him fiercely and showed him her perfect white teeth, blue eyes blazing with fury. _Fuck she's beautiful when she's angry_ , he thought wildly. _A real Stark wolf._

“Because I need you besides me, that's why.” She spat back in his face. “You can let Ibben lead the party against the wildlings. I'm not letting you out of my sight.”

Sandor was furious. “I'm not a child to be told what to do. I’m the Commander of your Queensguard as well as your sworn shield. It's my bloody duty, _my lady_ , to make sure you are safe, or have you forgotten it was your idea to turn me into your buggering Lord Commander against my will in the first place?”

Sansa walked up to him, hands on her hips, her red face raised up to his in pure defiance. Sandor was glowering at her so hard he felt his gaze could bloody well pierce right through her.

“I have not forgotten it, _my lord_. It is you who is forgetting yourself. As the Lord Commander of my Queensguard you are to remain by my side at all times. I am your queen and I refuse to let you lead that mission. I need you here besides me,” she threatened him pointedly.

“Stop calling me your bloody lord. You know I hate it when you call me that, little bird,” he growled, his voice thick with menace. “And what in the seven hells are you so fucking afraid of? I _am_ a trained warrior, a fucking _killer_ , _my lady_ , and while these are dangerous men and women out there, I’m the real terror here. I'll take a party of armed men with me and we'll kill them all. End of problem.”

Sandor was now inches away from Sansa's face, his head bowed low to look her deep in the eyes, the burnt-side of his face twitching madly as he almost roared his last words to her.

“I don't care. Ibben will go and that's the end of it,” Sansa replied coldly, her tone as cold as the winter ices that now covered the north.

Sandor was now so close to her face he could smell her breath . . . lemon cakes and sweet mint mingling together into one unholy alliance. “Oh no, he won’t,” he growled low in his throat. “He's a bloody idiot.”

“No he's not. He's as capable as you. You just want to go yourself because you're bored, and I don't want you to get killed just because you don't know what to do with yourself.”

Sansa smirked at him, her nose now almost touching his as she stood on tiptoe, her eyes glazed over with fury and . . . something else Sandor couldn't quite put his finger on.

They had never really rowed like that before, never had a fight like they were having now. But if she wanted to act like a spoiled highborn lady, Sandor would give her a lesson in humility.

Grabbing Sansa roughly by the arm, making her gasp in surprise and pain, Sandor dragged her with him to the large bed in the middle of the room.

He sat himself heavily on the edge of the feathered mattress and pulled her over his lap so she was lying on her stomach over his thighs, dragging up her skirts well over her back, exposing her exquisite bottom to him.

 _Fuck, she's not wearing any smallclothes_. Sandor's cock suddenly jumped at the sight of Sansa's smooth white arse cheeks exposed to his eyes. But he was too angry to stop and register his sudden excitement at seeing her naked and exposed like that, her pink cunt slightly showing through curls of red hair when he fully expected her to wear something underneath her skirts.

“What are you doing?” Sansa almost screamed, furious.

_Slap!_

Without thinking, Sandor's huge large hand slapped Sansa's perfect arse in one sudden move. Not too hard – he didn't want to hurt her. But the act made them both freeze in complete surprise and shock.

Sandor hadn't really wanted to slap her like a parent disciplining a child. She was his queen, his lover for the Seven's sake's! But she had infuriated him so much he'd completely lost his wits.

His hand was still on Sansa's arse when a heavy pang of remorse hit him, and it suddenly felt very warm against her skin –almost as if it were on fire – when he heard her moan. She fucking _moaned_.

“Do it again,” she panted underneath him.

“What?” he rasped dazedly, suddenly breathing hard. Was it him or did the room suddenly begin to feel _very_ warm?

“Spank me again!” she squirmed against his thighs, her head turned towards him with a look of unmistakable arousal on her face, biting her lower lip with her teeth, making his cock suddenly harden underneath her writhing body.

He was dimly aware that her breasts were pressed against his right leg and that her cunt had suddenly moistened under his hand, making his cock strain against his breeches, creating a sudden, unbidden surge of pleasure in him.

Sandor's hand started stroking her smooth bottom in light circles and then _Slap!_ He spanked her again, making her moan through gritted teeth.

“Yesss...” she hissed, squirming harder over him, rubbing his cock with her every movement. “More, I want more.”

“Gods!” He groaned, suddenly breathless and aroused beyond belief, his cock throbbing painfully against his breeches.

_Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!_

Sansa moaned every time his hand slapped her arse cheeks, dazedly aware that her cunt was getting some friction with each slap, making her wetter and wetter each time. Even if he was refraining from hurting her, the smooth white skin of her arse had become a deeper shade of pink.

Sansa had stopped moving. She was panting and breathing hard, almost lying limp over his legs. She raised her head again and looked back at him, cheeks red in arousal, auburn hair in complete disarray and trailing on the stone floor, eyes glazed over and pupils blown. Sandor's cock was now so hard he started to feel himself leaking through his woollen breeches, making him moan like a bloody maiden.

“Fuck me with your hand,” Sansa demanded, half-moaning half-commanding while she pushed her arse up towards his hand.

Sandor just obeyed her and shoved three of his big fingers up her very wet cunt, filling her up with his long and large digits, making her moan louder. “Yes, yes, fuck me.”

“Seven hells,” he groaned, too dazed to think and started fucking her hard with his fingers, pumping them in and out of her wetly. Fuck this was so exciting. He wanted to rub himself over his breeches but with Sansa lying over his lap like that he couldn't possibly manage to reach his hard aching member.

Thankfully, Sansa seemed to sense his need for some blessed friction and pleasure too and squirmed again over him, managing to twist her right arm and roam her hand over the hard bulge in his pants. Palming his hard cock, she started rubbing him over his clothes, making him groan deeply.

They just stood there; Sandor fucking Sansa hard with his hand while she was stroking the length of his engorged member almost desperately over his clothes, making his pleasure coil from his cock to his balls and sending goose bumps up and down his spine.

Sandor could feel his release coming hard and fast with the sight of his little bird bent over his knees like that: her skirts dragged high up over her sweet arse, the wet sound of his fingers fucking into her, her rubbing his throbbing, aching cock with a force he hadn't known she possessed, making him soar on pure pleasure while the blissful sensation he was feeling in his cock and his balls threatened to surge outwards all over his body. _Bloody hells! Shit, I’m going to come soon._

Sansa's moans had now almost turned into small cries of pleasure and he realized that she had managed to reach her nub with her other hand and that she was frigging herself off at the same time.

 _Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck_ , he was nearing! This was too good, too bloody exciting.

“Sansa,” He growled, head bowed down in a ragged exhale, his dark hair falling over his eyes. “Shit little bird don't stop, you're too fucking arousing like this . . . too good . . .”

“Spank me again!” she whimpered. _“NOW!”_

Too aroused for any coherent thought, he slipped his fingers wetly out of her cunt and gave her one last _Slap!_ over her arse and Sansa suddenly wailed as she reached her peak, her body convulsing over his thighs while she rubbed him harder over his clothes, making him slam into a release so powerful he saw stars exploding behind his eyelids.

Sandor felt his seed spurt hot and fast and wet into his breeches, making him breathe hard in overwhelming, shuddering pleasure, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

They stood there for long minutes, unmoving, breathing heavily against each other, the both of them slowly coming down from their powerful climax.

“Fuck Sansa, that was amazing.”

Sansa was already getting up from Sandor's lap with all the dignity that was left to her. He saw she was still dizzy from the spanking, the finger fucking, and the all-around strange sexual thing they had just done together.

“Well thank you, my l . . . Sandor.” She said, smoothing her skirts down with her beautiful soft hands.

“Now, where were we again? Oh yes, you're not going.” Making Sandor glare murderously at his bloody queen again.


	2. When Queens Misbehave 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this second entry into the "When Queens Misbehave" series, our misbehaving Queen in the North Sansa Stark believes it is Sandor's turn to be spanked. Will the most dangerous warrior in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms let her? No matter what, much smut will of course ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few changes have been made from the original text.
> 
> This has been Un-Beta'd and English is my second language. Please forgive any grammatical and spelling mistakes that may have crept in.

**When Queens Misbehave 2**

Sandor was lying comfortably on his back in Sansa’s bed, with only a bed sheet thrown carelessly over his cock, his strong, muscular arms folded behind his head on the soft pillows. They were propping his head high enough that he could see a very naked (and gloriously beautiful) Sansa brushing her long auburn hair at her night table. Sandor could see her perfect face reflected in her looking glass and noticed her eyes were on him.

“Why don’t you come back to bed, Your Grace,” he drawled as he looked at her through heavily lidded eyes – he was feeling rather sleepy. They’d just fucked again for the second time tonight and he was feeling extremely relaxed and contented.

Sansa turned her head towards him and gave him a sweet smile. “I’ll come soon enough, my love.”

Sandor snorted. She very rarely used the term “my love” when speaking to him because she knew he hated all the mushy stuff. Which in turn alerted him that something was probably up with her; Nowadays, Sansa Stark spouting courtesies at him always meant she had something at the back of her mind he probably wouldn’t like.

“What’s going on, little bird?” suspicion thick in his voice.

Sansa turned herself fully towards him this time and gave him a dazzling smile before she got up, walking up towards him with her hips swaying.

Uh-oh, Sandor definitely knew something was up.

Sansa climbed into bed with him, walking on all fours, her absolutely wonderful teats swaying in his face, her beautiful auburn locks falling all around her, when he noticed she’d kept her silver hairbrush in her hand.

What the fuck is she doing with that, does she think I’m going to start brushing her hair now? Worse, will she want to brush mine? Somehow, Sandor knew that wasn’t going to be case.

Putting her hands over his large shoulders, she slowly straddled him, bucking her hips over his cock and leaned down to kiss him fully on the mouth, licking over the burnt side, darting her tongue inside his parting lips, biting down rather forcefully on his lower one. Sandor groaned, feeling his cock slowly stiffening under the bed sheets and the warmth of her cunt again. He let his arms roam the sides of her smooth body, going slowly up to cup her teats, squeezing them lightly and making Sansa moan into his mouth.

Sansa slowly continued kissing him, leaving his mouth and going to his good ear, where she nibbled and bit down on it lightly, sending goose bumps down his spine. She started whispering in his ear: “Remember the other night when you spanked me?” she nibbled again on his ear while his hands went down her back and grabbed her arse cheeks forcefully, rocking her hips back and forth over him with force.

A shot of arousal spread through Sandor’s body at the remembrance of that particular event and he smiled smugly. “Why, yes little bird, I remember that you seemed to enjoy that very much.” Seven hells, of course he remembered that! Every time he thought on it his cock would harden and he’d get fully aroused.

Sansa went back to kissing him passionately; her tongue playing with his mercilessly as she bucked her hips against him again while his hands pushed her down hard over his manhood, rubbing her cunt against his now rock-hard cock, making the both of them moan.

“Well, I want to do it again,” she gasped against his mouth, her hands stroking the sides of his half-ruined face, making him groan against her.

“Well, I’m up for it if you are, little bird,” he rasped, a hint of smugness creeping into his voice.

Sansa suddenly blushed a deep red which colored her cheeks and her bosom.

“But this time, I . . . I want to be the one spanking you,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. Her beautiful clear blue gaze now suddenly shining with arousal, making Sandor so hard he felt the sudden, urgent need to stroke himself to alleviate the tension.

Groaning deeply, he gently pushed her off his cock and shoved his right hand between their bodies and, reaching his throbbing member, he started stroking himself. This conversation was just too bloody arousing, and the thought of spanking her again and giving her pleasure was almost enough to send him over the edge.

Then what she’d actually just said to him suddenly sunk in and he stopped stroking himself, his hand frozen still on his cock.

“You bloody want what?” he rasped, looking at her incredulously. Then he started to laugh, making Sansa simmer on top of him. “Little bird, you’ll never be strong enough to ‘spank’ me properly, so you better forget about it.” Then his lips reached out to claim Sansa’s again but she snapped her head back away from him so he actually kissed only air.

“That’s why I brought this,” Sansa showed him her silver hair brush. It was a beautiful thing, all made of silver. The back of the hairbrush was lovingly engraved with gold to depict birds and dogs frolicking in the wild. It was also as large as Sandor’s own hands.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare!” Sandor growled, the sound emanating deep from inside his chest as he roughly heaved Sansa off his lap and kneeled on the bed, facing her.

She kneeled on the bed too, her face now close to his again, a fierce determination in her eyes. “I believe it is now your turn to be spanked.” She told him coolly. “It’s only fair, after all. And you might even enjoy it.”

Sandor laughed. “Enjoy it? Seven hells woman. I get beat up every time I go out there and fight,” He made a vague gesture with his hand to signify ‘out there.’ “And believe me, I don’t get aroused at all when that happens.”

“Really?” Sansa asked him. “Why, I would have to disagree with you, Ser. Every time you come back home (Sandor noticed she talked about Winterfell as being home for him), after having slashed your way bloody through more of our enemies, the first thing you do is fuck me senseless, even when you’re still wearing your cold, hard, steel armor.”

Fuck. She had a point. He was often aroused after the bloodlust was on him. His mind trailed off to that time he’d come back from killing those wildlings after she’d finally let him lead the party to get rid of them instead of that idiot Ibben. It had been a hard fight, as one of them had been even bigger and stronger than him, though the wildling hadn’t been wearing any armor.

Sandor had finally killed the man after a long and arduous fight, cleaving him in two with his great-sword, and when he’d made his way back to Winterfell, the only thing he could think about was fucking Sansa. Which he did as soon as he was back, seeking her out in her solar. She’d shouted a command to her council members “Out!”

As soon as they’d been alone, Sandor had turned her over, pressing her chest bodily against the wall, lifting up her skirts over her hips and roughly pushing her smallclothes down around her ankles, ripping his breeches open with his hands still encased in his steel gauntlets. He then had drilled into her relentlessly until they both reached their climax together, her cries of pleasure mingling with his hard groans and grunts.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let her try to spank him after all, he mused. She’d probably end up being disappointed by his lack of response to it, he thought smugly.

“Fine,” he almost growled. “But if it’s not working, you stop all this nonsense.”

Sansa gave him a brilliant smile. “Of course!”

Sandor still wasn’t so sure about Sansa’s idea. “Get on all fours,” she commanded him, making Sandor glower at her. “Fuck Sansa, that’s a very unflattering position for –”

“I said on all fours,” Sansa repeated, a slight smirk appearing on her lips.

Bloody Hells. This is such a bad idea, Sandor thought but obeyed her nonetheless – he was her dog after all – turning around and getting on all fours with his naked arse facing Sansa. Gods be damned, he felt ridiculous.

She pressed herself against his bottom, her smooth hands slowly caressing his arse cheeks. Well, that isn’t so bad, Sandor thought. And then…

_Slap!_

Sansa had backed a little away from him and she slapped him with the back of her hairbrush hard enough that he couldn’t help but let out a yelp of surprise, more than one of pain.

“What the fuck…” He turned his head back to look at Sansa, glowering at her, while she seemed to be enjoying herself a little too much, a slight smile playing on her beautiful face.

“Little bird, I think that’s a bad –”

_Slap!_

Sansa slapped him again before he could finish whatever he was going to say. Worse, she slapped him harder. Bloody fucking hells!

Then the weirdest thing happened. Sandor felt his cock actually twitch and slowly grow hard again. Fuck. He groaned despite himself.

He heard Sansa let out a small cry of triumph, making Sandor grit his teeth together. “Sansa I seriously feel like we should –”

But she wasn’t listening to him, obviously.  _Slap!_  She slapped him again, hard, and the Sevens take him but he bloody liked it, his cock growing harder with each of her slaps, making him pant hard in a strange arousal despite himself.

“Do you like this then, Sandor?’’ she asked him, her voice thick with desire. “Yes . . . I can see that you do.” Sandor didn’t know what to reply to that. Saying yes to her would admit defeat and would put more ideas in his little bird’s mind so he kept his mouth resolutely shut.

Then he felt Sansa press herself flush against his arse again as her right hand let go of her hair brush, which now lay thankfully discarded on the bed, and fumbled over his stomach underneath him and she grabbed his now aching cock in her hand. She started stroking him hard and fast, making him moan like a maiden against the onslaught of her hand.

Sandor’s cock was so large that she couldn’t fully wrap her hand around it, so he folded his left hand around hers and helped her stroke him harder and faster, making him groan in pure pleasure through gritted teeth.

Behind him, he could feel Sansa wiggle her arm between their bodies as she started pleasuring herself while she was still stroking him.

The thought sent a new jolt of arousal course through his body and he made her stroke him harder and faster. Sandor was now panting hard under the fucking incredible pressure of their combined hands on his throbbing member, working his length up and down. And he could hear Sansa moaning behind him as she was rubbing herself wetly over her nub.

“Open your legs wide,” she whimpered behind him. Sandor froze.

“What are you planning to do now little bird?” An edge of danger tainting his low growl but he reluctantly did what she asked, spreading his knees wide on the bed.

“Just trust me, Sandor.” She then clambered flat on the bed and turned on her back before sliding awkwardly between his legs and Sandor found her mouth only inches away from his engorged member.

“Lower yourself so I can reach your manhood with my mouth,” she murmured underneath him while she pressed both her hands to his arse cheeks, pushing him down towards her luscious mouth. “Always the proper lady,” he chuckled. “You can barely say cock without blushing; despite everything we’ve done together in and out of bed little bird.” But he was silenced as soon as Sansa wrapped her hand around his cock again.

Sandor groaned deeply as Sansa held his member steady over her mouth with her left hand and proceeded to lick the tip of his hard cock with her tongue, playing with his slit, licking away the moisture that had leaked over his cockhead. Then her lips parted hot and wet and warm around his hard cock, working him up and down his length, her lips pursed over her teeth while she stroked the rest of his thick hard shaft, making him grunt in pure pleasure again as the wonderful sensation sent shivers up and down his spine.

Sandor lowered his hips a bit more to help let Sansa suck him off and started moving them slowly, fucking gently into her mouth, his legs straddling her on each side, pressing her heavily into the feathered mattress.

He saw that Sansa had resumed rubbing her hard little nub of flesh over her folds with her right hand before slipping two long fingers inside her wet opening, making her moan around his hard cock. The feel of Sansa’s mouth over his hardness combined with seeing her fuck herself rapidly with her hand was sending him over the edge already, making his cock throb harder and sending his arousal sky high.

His hips started bucking into Sansa’s mouth a little harder and he felt his cock nudging at the back of her throat while he went back to working his hand up and down his hard member along with her hand, where her mouth couldn’t reach him.

“Sansa . . . fuck little bird, I’m nearing . . .  suck me harder,” he panted. Fuck this felt so incredibly good.

Sansa started to suck on him harder and he felt her tongue swirl around the tip of his cockhead before taking more of him into her warm, tight, wet mouth.

His hand had started to take on an urgent new rhythm as he quickly pumped his member up and down and Sansa’s hand let go of him, leaving him to take care of himself as he felt his release coming hard and fast upon him. He moved it faster, stroking himself harder as his hips now started to move jerkily and his pleasure was becoming overwhelming, goose bumps going up and down his spine again.

Sansa’s hand then reached for his hard balls and she squeezed and caressed them lightly, her light fingers rubbing them in time with her mouth sucking his cock.

“Oh fuck, Sansa!” he groaned as he felt the pressure in his balls building up. Suddenly, he became aware that Sansa’s right hand had left her wet cunt to go up between his arse cheeks. He suddenly tensed as he felt one light, wet fingertip circling his arsehole gently but he slowly relaxed when he became satisfied that that was all her finger was doing, and besides, it was rather pleasurable. . . making him fuck himself into his hand and into her mouth a little harder, his pleasure now almost overpowering.

Then he felt her push at his opening gently with the pad of her slick, wet finger and he groaned when she slipped it into his freaking bloody arse. What the fuck! Making him suddenly tense again at the unbidden intrusion. “Sansa,” he growled low, menace thick in his voice.

Sansa’s mouth left his cock long enough for her to say “shush… Randa once told me most men liked this sort of thing, that it brought them a huge amount of pleasure,” before she took him back into her warm mouth.

“Well, I’m not most men so take that fucking finger out of me –” he barked, but she wasn’t listening to him and he felt her finger curl upwards and then push and rub against something inside him so incredibly fucking good, so fucking bloody exciting that it suddenly made him come hard, feeling his seed spurt hot and fast into Sansa’s mouth who gulped him down as he peaked so bloody high his whole body went rigid as waves upon waves of massive pleasure crashed through him. “Oh you fucking gods fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Sansa . . .” he groaned loudly on top of her as she milked every single drop of his pleasure into her luscious mouth, her finger still working at him.

Dimly, he became aware that Sansa’s body was also convulsing underneath him as she reached her own sweet release, letting out a loud keening sound while her finger slipped wetly out of him.

When he finally stilled, his heart beating hard in his chest, Sandor rolled over and laid himself besides Sansa who was heaving hard as she was coming down from her own climax.

Sandor’s left hand went up lazily to her breast and squeezed her nipple playfully between his knuckles, making Sansa giggle and hit him on his shoulder in retaliation.

“See? I told you you might like getting spanked . . . you definitely liked being fucked” she told him, sounding immensely smug for the proper lady she usually was while a deep blush also crept to her cheeks and her chest.

Sandor glared at her hard again. He hated to admit it, but the whole thing did arouse and excite him powerfully. But he wasn’t about to tell her that now, was he? Or next he’d know she’d be shoving things up his arse bigger than her finger.

“Little bird, you arouse me every time. No need for spanking or anything else . . .” he started.

She rolled over and laid her chin on his powerful chest, her arms folded over him. Suddenly, her lips started twitching and her mouth pursed into one amazingly wicked grin. “Now, why don’t I believe that?”

 


	3. When Queens Misbehave 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the third entry into the "When Queens Misbehave" series. Sansa is feeling the pressure and Sandor is not making things easy. Still, smut ensues, and a new development is about to change their relationship forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few changes have been made from the original text on LJ.
> 
> This has been Un-Beta'd and English is my second language. Please forgive any grammatical and spelling mistakes that may have crept in.

**When Queens Misbehave 3**

Sandor was covered in blood, sweat and grime. So when the bathtub was finally brought up to Sansa’s room and filled with hot, steaming water, he felt grateful to finally soak in and wash away the grime of the day. Wildling incursions were beginning to be a major problem and with the Wall under assault from the Others, the Queen in the North was hard pressed on all sides to try and keep the peace in the north.  
  
Sansa was still in her solar, reading letters and signing papers. She’d told him she would join him shortly as soon as she’d finished with the more pressing matters.  
  
Sandor sighed in deep satisfaction and he dipped his head quickly under the warm, soothing water. Then, grabbing the bar of soap, he scrubbed himself clean so when Sansa finally arrived he’d be all clean and smelling of good fresh soap.  
  
 _For fuck’s sake. She does have me on a leash,_ he realized. Then he chuckled, _might be I should get her on a leash . . ._  
  
Sandor was still laughing to himself when Sansa walked into the room. He could see she was upset.  
  
“What the fuck’s happened now?” He rasped as she made her way towards him.  
  
“Jon has written me.”  
  
 _Great_ , thought Sandor. Sansa’s bastard half-brother – or rather _cousin_ – Jon Snow, was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He’d survived an assassination attempt by his former First Steward, Bowen Marsh, and a few disgruntled Black Brothers when Jon decided to march against Ramsay Bolton a few years back.

That was before Sansa, Sandor, her uncle the Blackfish, the blasted Lion Ser Jaime Lannister and the warrior woman Brienne of Tarth, swooped up north to crush the bastard of Bolton and put an end to House Bolton’s hold on the north with a loyal army of men from the Vale, the Riverlands, and Westerlanders.  
  
“What did he want now? More men for the Wall? He knows we’re already stretched thin as it is down here,” he rasped.  
  
“Yes. I’ve written him back, telling him he should write to Queen Daenerys.”  
  
Daenerys Targaryen now sat the Iron Throne with her husband and nephew Aegon VI. “Let them deal with the problem. After all, Jon is now as much family to them as he is to you,” he said.  
  
When it was discovered that Jon was actually the son of Daenerys Stormborn’s older, dead brother, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, Daenerys had made Jon an offer of marriage to strengthen the bonds between the Houses of Stark and Targaryen – putting an end to Daenery’s hatred of House Stark. Jon had accepted on the condition that he remained on the Wall as Lord Commander for a year out of two. Daenerys had acquiesced and had also married her nephew Aegon. The Targaryens never did anything like everyone else.  
  
So Jon had now been back at the Wall for almost a year and was still in need of men to hold it against the Others and their army of wights.  
  
“Why doesn’t Queen Daenerys just swoop in with her dragons to burn the bloody dead fuckers?” Sandor rasped.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know . . . Because it would be too easy?” Sansa sounded tired and stressed out. Sandor could see the entire situation was turning his little bird into one big knot of nerves. And he knew exactly just what she needed to relax . . .  
  
He rose from the bathwater, rivulets of water running down his hard body, and could see that Sansa was now staring fixedly at him, taking in his tall frame, his rippling muscles, his large cock which had already started to harden at the thought of fucking her. She licked her lips unconsciously. He loved it when she did that. Sandor chuckled. “I know just what you need, _My Lady_ , Your Grace,” he rasped.  
  
She was still staring at his lengthening cock. “And what is that?”  
  
“A good hard fuck,” Sandor replied smugly.  
  
“Yes.” She was still staring at his cock, arousing Sandor no end. He grabbed it with his hand and started stroking himself as he stepped out of the tub. “Like what you see, Sansa?”  
  
“Oh, yes,” she replied, the answer on her lips a half-moan.  
  
Sandor reached for the towel to dry himself up, while Sansa sat herself on the chair at her dressing table, spreading her legs wide on either sides of the armrests and lifting her skirts up in order to put her hands between her legs and start rubbing herself there. _Fuck_. He was now fully hard as he could see Sansa’s mound clearly, all pink and wet already. She was still not wearing any smallclothes since she liked how much it excited him to know that.  
  
He kept staring at her while he was patting himself up almost absent-mindedly with the towel. She was now circling her hard little pearl of flesh above her slick, wet folds. Sansa was moaning and gasping as she was frigging herself off while her other hand was rubbing over her nipples, still trapped under the bodice of her dress.  
  
“Come and lick me, Sandor,” she moaned, her back arching against the chair. Her eyes glazed over in pleasure.  
  
Sandor’s cock twitched at her request and in a few steps he was on her, his big hands swooping under her arse cheeks, lifting her hips up as his mouth closed in on her wet cunt. He started licking at her, fucking into her opening with his tongue before going up to her hard little nub, using the tip of his tongue to tease at it, making Sansa squirm hard against his face as a loud moan was ripped from her throat.  
  
Her hands went to entwine themselves into his hair, scraping at his scalp and sending shivers down his spine. “Use the burnt side of your mouth to suck on me,” she moaned. He very well obliged her, turning his face sideways and sucking on her nub, turning her already loud moans into cries of pleasure, making her hands fumble jerkily with his hair.  
  
Her hips were bucking hard against his face as Sansa was obviously letting herself go already. “Don’t- don’t stop,” she moaned. “I- I want . . . I need to peak now . . .”  
  
“Oh, fuck . . . Sansa . . .” Sandor groaned, feeling his cock throb already. He let go of one of her arse cheeks and shoved two of his big, long fingers deep inside her opening, curling his fingers up and rubbing her there.  
  
“Oh gods, YES!” Sansa almost screamed as he fucked her hard while still sucking on her nub. In no time, he felt her cunt contracting hard around his fingers and Sandor was now lapping at her juices as her hips rode out her pleasure against his face, moaning and breathing hard.  
  
Then her hips slowly stilled and Sandor licked at her cunt one last time before drawing back. He looked up at her with a wet smirk on his face.  
  
Using the back of his hand he wiped Sansa’s juices off his mouth while she was lowering her legs off the armrests and she smoothed down her skirts.  
  
“Thank you, Sandor.”  
  
Somehow, her bout of courtesy suddenly angered him. “Just like a highborn lady. Does it please you to keep using me like that?” he growled.  
  
Sansa stared at him blankly for a moment before she spoke. “Use you?” she asked, her tone icy again. “I believe, _ser_ , I am not the only one doing the using, as you so bluntly put it.”  
  
There she was, using his hated title again. “Fuck Sansa. I’m not a toy for you to use as you bloody well please! I’m a man, a bloody warrior!”  
  
She stared at him again before she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry.”  
  
Sandor was incredulous. Was this Sansa _fucking_ Stark, the bloody Queen in the North talking to him just now or just a shadow of the woman he loved? His little bird usually had more fire in her belly. It suddenly made him worried as fuck.  
  
Sansa quickly divested herself of her clothes and stepped into the tub. She didn’t seem to care that the water was already muddled with blood and grime. She took up the bar of soap and started washing herself without another word.  
  
Sandor went to the bed and laid down on it with his head propped up over his folded arms on the soft feathered pillows, half fuming, half worried. He quickly glanced at her as she disappeared under the waterline and got even more worried when she took her sweet time before resurfacing again.  
  
When Sansa’s head emerged from under the water in a gasp, Sandor’s relief was almost palpable. _My little bird has too much on her plate. Damn that damn cousin of hers. Damn that Jon_ fucking _Snow-Stark-Targaryen or whatever in the seven hells he wants to call himself. And damn that dragon queen Daenerys while she sits her arse on the bloody Iron throne and does nothing to help while Sansa has to face every threat coming their way._  
  
From the corner of his eye he saw Sansa lay her head back against the back of the tub and close her eyes, her beautiful lashes casting a dark shadow over her cheeks as she sighed deeply.  
  
Sandor suddenly felt remorse about his earlier, harsh words. He knew Sansa was working hard rebuilding Winterfell, all the while trying to keep the north together in relative peace despite the wildlings threat (Sandor mentally thanked Jon _fucking bloody_ Snow who allowed the savages to settle in the Gift in the first place), despite the Others and their thralls knocking at the Wall.  
  
Then he started being angry again, but not at Sansa. Sandor was angry at himself.  
  
Sansa stayed in the bath a long time before he finally heard her step out of it. He’d been staring at the window the entire time, looking at big wet lumps of snow falling while he was deep in thought.  
  
Next thing he knew, Sansa was walking on all fours towards him on the bed, her wonderful firm teats swaying lightly as she moved almost like a cat. _No, Sansa is like a wolf – a direwolf_. His eyes locked in on hers and he saw she’d been crying, her eyes red-rimmed.  
  
“Sansa –” he started but she interrupted him.  
  
“Hush my love. I am sorry. It’s just . . . it’s been hard lately. And I know you’ve been doing your best as the Lord Commander of my Queensguard and my sworn shield. I know you often risk your life for me, for Winterfell, for my north. And I love you all the more for it.”  
  
Sandor felt like a complete bastard again.  
  
“I want to show you how much I love you,” she now murmured as she straddled him, rubbing her nub over his cock, making him groan deeply when she rocked her hips over his.  
  
His hands rose of their own accords to her breasts, squeezing them lightly and molding her flesh to his hands as they swayed back and forth with the movement of her hips.  
  
Before long, Sandor was hard again, and his little bird was wet and moaning. She lowered herself on his chest to kiss him deeply while he felt her hard little nipples getting some friction against his chest hair. Her damp, auburn hair fell to his right side, tickling him. Her hands were roaming all over his chest, then up to his shoulders and going over his arms, squeezing him there before going down again and making their way to his sides. Then her hands moved to his thighs, stroking him there, making him moan into their kiss.  
  
Sansa started kissing him all over: over the burnt side of his face, down to the crook of his neck where she bit down on it before sucking hard, marking him with a purple bruise and making him groan again, then down to his chest where she peppered warm open-mouthed kisses and lower still over his stomach as she slowly made her way backwards on the bed going oh-so-slowly down his body. Before long her mouth was merely inches away from his twitching cock, her breath hot over his engorged member. Sandor was panting hard in anticipation.  
  
He saw Sansa look up at him through heavily lidded eyes and felt himself drown into their deep blue pools, right before she took him into her mouth.  
  
Sandor’s hips bucked at the sensation of his now painfully hard cock being sucked on by his little bird, making him groan and grab at Sansa’s hair, fisting it, pulling at it. He could see her head bobbing up and down as he felt her warm mouth working at his length, her tongue swirling over the tip of his cock as she suckled on him before going down his thick hard shaft again, sending hot stabs of pleasure through him.  
  
He could hear his little bird’s soft moans of pleasure as she sucked him off, and it was driving him into a frenzy.  
  
“Sansa, little bird, fuck, it just feels so good.” He groaned as he gently pushed her head down over his hard member with his hands.  
  
He let go of her hair and started stroking himself heatedly where her mouth couldn’t reach, to Sansa’s renewed little whimpers of pleasure, as her mouth worked in time with his fist.  
  
He could feel a deep humming going through his hard length, could feel his pleasure getting stronger. Then he leaned in and grabbed Sansa, turning her over so he could eat her up while she sucked on his hard manhood.  
  
Sansa yelped and then, realizing what he wanted to do, she settled herself over him, spreading her thighs wide on each side of his face as Sandor grabbed hold of her luscious arse and started licking again at her pink wet opening, eliciting some pretty moans from her which in turn made him throb harder.  
  
Sandor started bucking his hips in time with Sansa’s mouth going down on him, feeling himself nudge at the back of her throat as she took him in as far as she could go, swirling her wet tongue over his cock in a way that drove him almost to release in her mouth.  
  
“Sansa, fuck little bird, pace yourself,” he grunted as his hips moved in complete contradiction to his own words.  
  
She wetly let go of his cock and looked back at him, moaning as he was working her up, sucking on her hard little nub and swirling his tongue over it, laving at it thoroughly.  
  
“Look who’s talking now,” she panted hard as she ground her hips against him in complete abandon while he felt her hard little nipples brush over his stomach.  
  
Sandor’s fingers spread her arse cheeks wide as he licked her, making Sansa moan against him again. She moved her hips down hard against his face and his fingers brushed over her pink little arsehole, making Sansa moan loud and clear in the room. “Oh, gods, yes, please, yes.”  
  
“Yes what, little bird?” Sandor asked, puzzled and aroused all at once.  
  
“Please, put your finger in me . . .” she begged. “There . . . “  
  
 _What the fuck?_ Did Sansa Stark just ask him to push his finger into her tight little arsehole? “Sansa,” he growled low, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest, his voice hoarser than it had ever been. “What are you asking me?”  
  
“I want you to fuck me there,” she moaned again.  
  
 _Oh fuck, oh fuck._  
  
“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly.  
  
“Yesss…” she almost hissed.  
  
“Shit.” Sandor worked his index finger into her moist cunt to wet it properly. Then, slowly, he started circling her arsehole with his thumb and when he felt Sansa was relaxed enough, he gently pushed his wet, slick finger into her tight little opening, feeling his finger slowly give way inside of her, making Sansa moan so loud he thought everyone in Winterfell would be able to hear her.  
  
Sansa suddenly stood still over him. “Sansa, do you want me to take it out?” Sandor asked, worry creeping into his voice.  
  
“No, don’t!” then she started moving her hips slowly over him. “Please, start moving your finger.”  
  
“Fuck Sansa, you’re so bloody tight there, I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
“I gave you pleasure when I did this to you the last time,” she panted over him. “I’m sure you can give me pleasure too,” she moaned her encouragement.  
  
Sandor grunted and started pushing his finger slightly in and out of her; all the while his tongue went back to teasing her nub, while Sansa took him back into her mouth, the both of them moaning their pleasure loudly.  
  
Sandor was so aroused by the whole experience with his little bird that he started panting hard in pure desire for her. His cock was throbbing hard, moisture had started leaking from his cockhead and he felt himself getting close to his release once more.  
  
 _Fuck, I need to make it up to her. Maybe if I_ . . . he suddenly thought.  
  
Sandor slightly raised his knees up onto the bed so that his heels were digging into the feathered mattress. Then he spread his legs a little wider.  
  
“Sansa,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “Maybe . . . maybe you can try this thing again . . . what you did to me the last time . . .” _Seven hells!_ Sandor could feel himself getting flushed by what he was asking her to do. _Fuck, I’m not a maiden. I’m a bloody warrior. Then why do I feel so strange asking her to do_ that _to me again? Because it’s not very warrior-like, that’s why, dog,_ he almost snorted at himself. But he brushed the thought aside. He wanted to please his little bird, especially after how he felt he’d just acted like a complete and utter bastard earlier with her.  
  
Sansa let go of his cock again before turning back towards him as she rolled her hips over his face all the while his finger was still fucking in and out of her tight little arsehole, his mouth lapping at her sweet, wet cunt.  
  
“Are you sure?” she asked him as she licked her lips again.  
  
“Bloody hells, yes little bird! I’m sure.” Then, getting his temper in check he added. “Just take it slow.”  
  
He saw Sansa smile brightly at him before she went back to sucking him off enthusiastically. Sandor kept working at her, licking her sweet cunt with the flat of his tongue, all the while he kept on fucking her taut little opening with his big index finger.  
  
Sansa moaned and snaked her right arm between their bodies, towards her swollen wet cunt. Sandor stopped laving at her while Sansa buried her fingers deep inside her opening, making her pant in pleasure again as she worked her fingers inside her cunt, pumping them in and out and getting them slick with her juices, making Sandor’s heart beat wildly in his chest as he knew what would be coming next.  
  
When she was ready, Sansa turned round again.  
  
“Are you sure you want this, my love?”  
  
“Yes Sansa,” he rasped, his voice still low and hoarse. He bucked his hips toward her encouragingly as he started licking and sucking on Sansa’s hard nub and pink wet cunt again while he continued moving his finger deep inside her, making her mewl in pleasure over him.  
  
Sansa took his stiff member back into her warm mouth and she started to suck on his rock-hard cock again, while her slick fingers went to his opening, circling his arsehole before she waited for a heartbeat.

Sandor’s excitement and anticipation was fucking running high.  
  
He felt Sansa push the pad of her slick index finger inside his opening, making him groan. When her finger was in, he felt her curl it the same way she did the last time and felt her start rubbing that thing, that place inside him again that had given him so much pleasure the last time.  
  
It was suddenly overwhelming.  
  
Sandor felt like each of his senses were overloaded with bliss. The feel of his little bird’s sweet cunt all wet and swollen under the onslaught of his tongue and mouth; the feel of his finger pumping in and out of Sansa’s tight arse opening while she moaned loudly under his ministrations; the humming feeling he was getting from his cock as she sucked on it wetly; and the incredibly arousing feeling of her finger working at him deep inside made him want to release into Sansa’s mouth right this moment while his hips started to move jerkily with each pleasurable rub inside his opening.  
  
He felt like he was about to explode with pleasure.  
  
Sandor was now groaning loudly around Sansa’s cunt when he suddenly panted “put another finger in me.” Fuck he was so bloody excited, so fucking aroused that he _wanted_ that second finger deep inside of him now so his pleasure could be even greater.  
  
With a strangled moan Sansa pressed her still-slick middle finger inside Sandor’s tight arsehole, he was nervous and tensed slightly as she pushed it in but he felt it enter him easily. And the sensation . . . well the bloody sensation was intense. Sandor groaned loudly and panted, all the while bucking his hips so Sansa would take more of his hard cock into her mouth.  
  
“Gods, Sansa. Fuck me, fuck me hard,” he rasped. Did he really just say that? Fuck he was too excited to care as he felt Sansa’s two fingers start rubbing him there, right on that spot that felt so incredibly good.  
  
He could barely keep up with what he was doing to Sansa as he felt his pleasure grow exponentially with each of his little bird’s swirls of her tongue around his rock-hard cock and the feeling of her two slick fingers pumping inside him.  
  
He suddenly tensed when he felt his balls tighten in molten ecstasy again, and he knew he was going to peak soon.  
  
“Gods! Little bird . . . Don’t stop what you’re doing!” He groaned and bucked his hips harder against her face.  
  
Sansa’s mouth let go of his cock wetly, leaving his stiff member now slick with saliva lying on his stomach. Sansa turned round to look at him again. “Stop what you’re doing,” she panted, and he saw that her eyes were glazed with pleasure. She also stopped moving her fingers inside of him but kept them there.  
  
“Why . . . what?” Sandor asked dazedly.  
  
“I want you to fuck into your hand now, take yourself in hand,” she whimpered.  
  
“Oh seven hells!” Sandor just obeyed her and took his finger out of her. Then he reached for his throbbing member with his large hand, folded it around his hard length, and started stroking himself hard and fast.  
  
“Slow down your strokes Sandor, go slowly.” Sansa panted as she resumed working her fingers inside him. He slowed down and Sansa’s fingers started rubbing him in time with his strokes, making him as excited as a green squire.  
  
“Does it feel good?” She asked him, almost out of breath.  
  
“Yes,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. Sansa took out her fingers from his arsehole (making him protest loudly) while she quickly turned around so she was now kneeling between his legs, facing him. She reached her dripping wet cunt with her left hand to slick her fingers with her wetness and worked them hard again inside herself. Sandor was now staring at her, hard beyond belief, throbbing painfully and so aroused he knew he couldn’t keep this up for long.  
  
Moaning, Sansa once again entered two fingers into Sandor who groaned against the renewed intrusion of her index and middle fingers inside of him again, making his hand freeze over his cock while he adjusted around her fingers.  
  
Sandor’s eyes locked onto Sansa’s. The usual beautiful blue pool of her eyes was replaced by a blue so dark they looked like the sea during a tempest.  
  
She started working at him again, brushing her two fingers against that place that was making him moan like a bloody maiden at the incredibly intense sexual feeling he was experiencing. He could feel his pleasure radiating all over his body as his little bird’s fingers were slowly bringing him closer to the seven heavens.  
  
“Stroke yourself again Sandor. I want you to stroke yourself hard.”  
  
“Oh gods! Sansa . . .” was all he could say as he resumed pumping his hard, throbbing member into his fist with something that felt like desperation.  
  
As Sandor worked his length hard and fast, making his hips buck so hard they were pushing him off the mattress, Sansa’s fingers kept fucking and rubbing inside of him in a maddening way that just felt too bloody amazing. _Fuck! I’m nearing so fast!_  
  
“Sansa . . .” He groaned. “I’m going to peak soon.”  
  
“Yes,” she replied, her voice thick with arousal, her pupils completely blown as she looked up at him. “I want you to peak Sandor, I want to see the pleasure on your face as you release.” She licked her lips, enhancing Sandor’s pleasure at the sight. “I want to see you as I fuck you; the way you see me when you fuck me. I want you to come so hard, Sandor, make you come so hard I’ll come too . . .” She was panting hard at her words, making Sandor groan loudly as his hips were still bucking wildly while he stroked himself even faster, aroused by what she was telling him. _Oh you fucking Gods, this is so bloody exciting_ . . .  
  
He could still feel Sansa’s two fingers working at him, making him slowly soar in intense arousal. All he could feel now was the blood rushing in his ears and the intense pleasure in his cock and in his tightening balls as he was stroking himself so hard and so fast he felt the urgent need to release – and the exquisite pressure he felt there, inside of him, with Sansa stroking that incredible place, making him want to come _now_.  
  
“Sansa . . . fuck, yes” He panted. “I feel I’m- I’m going to . . . to peak . . . soon, oh fuck! Fuck me harder.”  
  
He heard Sansa let out a keening sound and felt a third finger entering him and touching him . . . just . . . there . . . _Sweet merciful gods, oh . . . fuck!!!_  
  
Sandor felt his climax explode from deep inside of him like a bolt of lightning. His pleasure suddenly radiated from that spot inside him that just felt so bloody good he almost sobbed as his cock pulsed hard in his hand while he was still pumping it, his release so strong he fucking felt himself lose it, milking his pleasure as his seed spurted hot all over his hand and his stomach, as this massive wave crashed through him, overloading all his other senses so that all he felt was this intense, all-encompassing, agonizing pleasure. “Sansa . . . Gods . . .” he suddenly moaned in complete ecstasy.  
  
Sandor was heaving hard on the bed as he slowly came down from one of the most intense climaxes he’d ever felt, his breathing ragged, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, his hair damp with sweat, and his large hand still resting around his now-softening cock. He was dazedly aware that Sansa had taken out her fingers from inside him and that she’d made her way to the washbasin laid out on a table in the corner of the room.  
  
Next he knew she was lying next to him while she was lovingly washing him. “Oh fuck Sansa . . . Little bird . . .” he began but couldn’t say more. He was still out of breath, was still shaking.  
  
Sansa covered his mouth with hers, kissing him deeply, darting her tongue into his mouth while he reciprocated the kiss, making his tongue roll wetly against hers as his hand went to the back of her head to press her closer into their embrace.  
  
After some long minutes spent kissing each other, biting at their lower lips, licking over each other’s mouths, Sansa pulled out and looked deeply into his eyes.  
  
“Do you know how beautiful you are when you peak,” she murmured as her hand was stroking his dark damp hair away from the burnt side of his face.  
  
He chuckled. “I’m sure I’m a sight for sore eyes, little bird. Only you can call me beautiful.”  
  
“Oh gods, but you were, you _are_ beautiful. And just now, your face as you released so hard, as it contorted in pleasure . . . it was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. It’s always the most beautiful thing I see.”  
  
She snuggled into his arms, her face pressed to his chest while his heart was still racing and his left arm encircled her, holding her tight.  
  
“It’s your turn to climax now little bird, let me pleasure you,” he murmured against her hair.  
  
She raised her head to look at him. “I just did, my love.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I peaked, when you asked me to fuck you harder,” she chuckled a little. “I told you, I was so close to my release that when you asked, begged me for that . . . well, I was so aroused that I just peaked. It’s never happened before . . . and I wasn’t even touching myself . . . but I was so excited . . . so aroused . . . I- I never knew this could happen.” She snuggled even closer to him.  
  
“Well fuck me,” was all Sandor could say to that. He was dazzled that his little bird got her release only because she was giving him great pleasure. He kissed her forehead lovingly.  
  
Then his little bird turned on her stomach, folded her arms over his chest and laid her chin there. He could see her looking intently at him. “What is it my little bird, my Sansa,” he asked, his voice suddenly thick with sleep.  
  
“There’s something I need to tell you . . .”  
  
He kissed her forehead again. “You can tell me, what is it?”  
  
She hesitated and looked deeply into his eyes. “I . . . I don’t want you to be my sworn shield and the Lord Commander of my Queensguard anymore.”  
  
Sandor was stunned. “You don’t want what?” He felt his heart drop to his stomach at her words. _The little bird doesn’t want me to protect her anymore?_ He was suddenly feeling sick.  
  
Sansa quickly shushed him.  
  
“I don’t want you to be my sworn shield and the Lord Commander of my Queensguard because . . .”  
  
“Well, out with it woman!” He growled, feeling himself getting mad at her again.  
  
She sighed and then smiled sweetly at him. “I’ve been thinking about this, and this is one of the reasons why I was still working late in my solar. I’ve written to Queen Daenerys informing her that I was ready to make a marriage alliance, but that I wouldn’t be marrying any of her choices.”  
  
“What the fuck are you telling me, Sansa? Who in the seven buggering hells are you planning to marry?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. He was already jealous of the man Sansa was going to marry. Well fuck him! He should have seen this coming. She was unmarried and a queen at that. She had to make an alliance to strengthen the north, had to start popping out little wolf brats to secure the dynasty. Fucking her sworn shield and the Lord Commander of her Queensguard almost every night wasn’t going to make her achieve any of that.  
  
Well, bugger it, bugger him, bugger her, he was fuming, his jaw already clenching hard, the burnt side of his face twitching like crazy while his heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces.  
  
“Look at me Sandor, _look at me_ ,” she pleaded as she took his chin between her thumb and forefinger, much as he used to do to her in King’s Landing, making him turn his head towards her. Her eyes were boring into him as a dazzling smile slowly played across her face. “I’m not marrying any of the dragon queen’s choices, because you’re the one I’m choosing to marry, Sandor. After all, our child will need its father.”


	4. When Queens Misbehave 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this fourth entry into the "When Queens Misbehave" series Sandor is now Lord of Winterfell and has to play host to Ser Barristan Selmy, while Sansa is feeling the effects of her pregnancy in an interesting way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few changes have been made from the original text on LJ.
> 
> This has been Un-Beta'd and English is my second language. Please forgive any grammatical and spelling mistakes that may have crept in.
> 
> The first part of this story is loosely inspired by Zsra187’s amazing story "Table Manners" which you can read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/458055/chapters/788907?view_adult=true).

**When Queens Misbehave 4**

Sandor Clegane was bored to tears.

The feast given in honor of Queen Daenerys Targaryen’s envoy, Ser Barristan Selmy – the dragon queen’s Lord Commander of her Queensguard – was dragging on and on and his wife Sansa had already left an hour ago pretexting a thumping headache brought on by the early stages of her pregnancy.

Sandor smirked inwardly at the thought of his pregnant wife.

When his little bird had given him the news that she’d decided to marry _him_ and that she was pregnant with their first child, Sandor had at first been so stunned he felt as if someone had slapped him across the face with a steel gauntlet.

Then he’d been completely elated by the news. The thought of marrying Sansa and becoming a father – two things he thought would completely elude him in his life, two things he thought he’d never have – made him feel like walking on air. He even ended up being quite civil to Ibben who would now be promoted to Lord Commander of Sansa’s Queensguard in his stead.

 _The little bird has completely domesticated me_ , he snorted in between two sips of his Dornish sour red wine.

He loved the little bird, but he’d never thought she’d ever chose to marry him – since he had nothing to bring to the marriage but himself, his honesty, his skill with a sword, his brutality and his ferocity – so Sandor had made his peace with being Sansa’s sworn shield and the Lord Commander of her Queensguard – as well as becoming her lover.

The marriage had then proceeded quickly within the week, before Queen Daenerys could sweep in and do anything to prevent it.

And so Sandor Clegane and Sansa Stark had married in Winterfell’s godswood, in front of Sansa’s old gods – himself not keeping to any one of those buggering gods or even the new ones for that matter – and they had exchanged cloaks as a symbol of their unity and their love in front of the Heart tree.

And now, as Sansa’s husband and the new Lord of Winterfell, he was stuck to entertain the old knight who’d once been the Lord Commander of King Robert Baratheon’s Kingsguard. Ser Barristan the bold, once considered one of the greatest knights in the Seven Kingdoms.

Sandor was particularly uncomfortable around the old knight since he’d once received his white cloak from that dead little shit of a king Joffrey when he and his bitch of a mother, Queen Cersei, had dismissed Selmy from the Kingsguard soon after the Stag King’s death – citing the old knight’s age and the fact that he’d failed to protect King Robert as an excuse to get rid of him and give a white cloak to Sandor, then their loyal Dog; as well as promoting the absent Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister, to Lord Commander. _Before_ they tried to have the old knight killed.

At least Ser Barristan didn’t seem to hold Sandor to any of that, and the old man was fairly pleasant enough to him, the former Lannister Hound. Of course, as Lord of Winterfell and the husband of the Queen in the North, Sandor’s social standing had dramatically increased.

The old knight was now engaged in a heated discussion with Ibben about wildling incursions and about the White Walkers and their thralls knocking on the Wall, his back turned on Sandor.

So there he was: nursing his wine and whiling away the time while thinking about the moment he could join his beautiful little bird in their bedchambers, when he suddenly felt a tugging at his breeches, making him freeze with his cup of wine on his lips, nearly chocking on the sip he’d just swallowed.

He looked left and right at the guests, watching them enjoy the last courses of the elaborate meal while they were also getting drunk and rather boisterous on the overflowing wine and ale.

Sandor cleared his throat and discretely pushed his fork off the table, making it fall and clang to the floor loudly and pushing it under the table with his foot. Making sure no one was looking at him, he bent over the side, lifted the tablecloth and ducked his head under the table to see who was tugging at his breeches, ready to kill the little fuck who was touching him there.

To his surprise, he almost came nose to nose with Sansa who was hiding under the oak table.

“What the fuck are you doing there little bird?” He hissed, his voice low.

Sansa smiled sweetly at him. “I got bored waiting for you in our bedchamber so I decided to come pleasure my husband here at the feast.”

 _The little bird’s here to_ fucking _pleasure me?_ Sandor looked at her with his mouth agape. Surely she was only jesting? Surely she didn’t mean to go ahead with what she’d just told him?

“Sansa, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a feast with half of Winterfell around us!” He hissed again, the burnt side of his face now almost twitching.

She looked at him with lust etched plainly across her features and in her eyes. “Yes. Doesn’t that make it all the more exciting?” She whispered back. Sandor could see how his little bird’s clear blue eyes had already taken on a darker shade of blue and not because she was hiding under the table. “Now, I suggest you return to your cup of wine and act as if nothing is amiss, _my lord_ ” she added, smirking at him for all her worth as her hands reached for his breeches again.

Sandor glared at her murderously but did as she bid him. He was fuming. _What the fuck is Sansa thinking? We’re in the middle of a bloody feast  with half of Winterfell present and Ser Barristan_ fucking _Selmy at my right side, talking to Ibben. Surely she can’t be serious!_

Sandor knew he should be angrier at Sansa but the idea of his wife sucking on his cock while there were so many people present in the great hall suddenly excited him, and he felt himself going hard in his breeches despite himself. He was now feeling thankful for the white tablecloths Sansa had insisted on having laid out on each table. They were hiding her, and his lower body, from view. _How in the seven hells did she even manage to get under the table without anyone noticing her in the first place?_ Fuck him, but his wife still kept on surprising him.

Ever since Sansa had told him she was pregnant, her desires for him had suddenly increased tenfold and Sandor was now taking her frequently during the day, whenever she felt the need to be fucked by him – which was relatively often.

Sandor put the fork back on the table slowly, almost studiously, and gave a quick smirk at Ser Barristan who had turned round to look at him before giving his full attention back to Ibben and turning his back on Sandor yet again – He’d never felt more grateful in his life for that idiot Ibben than he did now.

Putting on the blank mask of complete boredom he’d honed for so many years as a Lannister guard over his scarred features, Sandor returned to sipping his wine while he felt Sansa unlacing his breeches slowly, her knuckles stroking the hard bulge in his breeches with each pull at his laces, making him inwardly groan with each light rub over is engorged, throbbing member.

When she finally released his aching cock from his now too-tight breeches, it was all he could do not to let out a loud moan when she closed her warm mouth around his hard manhood. He felt her wrap her hands around the base of his stiff member, licking his hard length from its stem to its tip with the flat of her wet tongue and then sucking on the tip of it, swirling her tongue around his cockhead, licking and teasing at his leaking slit which sent wonderful shivers up and down his spine.

Then she closed her mouth around him again and started going down his thick hard shaft, while both of her hands stroked him in time.

Sandor plunged back into his wine, trying to look as disinterested about everything around him as he humanly could while at the same time his hips wanted to buck into Sansa’s mouth so badly he felt he would lose his wits.

 _Shit, this is so exciting!_ His eyes darted left and right again to see if anyone was staring at him, or if anyone had noticed the look of sheer pleasure he was trying his very damn best to hide.

_No one. Good._

Then Sansa started to suck him off enthusiastically, feeling her small moans humming alongside his hard length all the while Sandor was hoping no one would notice, no one would hear her tiny mewls of pleasure, and no one would see how the burned side of his face had started to twitch – despite how hard Sandor was trying to keep himself under control as he felt Sansa’s mouth going wetly up and down his cock rhythmically.

He then felt one of Sansa’s hands lovingly caress his thigh before slowly making its way to his heaving stomach and firmly push at him so he would slump back against the back of his chair, which he tried to do nonchalantly, his cup of wine still in his hand and going regularly to his lips. _Fuck, what does she want to do now?_

Sandor opened his legs a little wider under the table when he felt Sansa tug at his breeches again, this time freeing his balls. _Oh you damn gods in all the seven hells_ was Sandor’s next barely coherent thought. He felt Sansa’s soft hands reach out for them as she started rubbing her fingers around them, stroking in between his painfully clenching balls while she still sucked him off, sending a hot stab of pleasure through his entire body that shot from his balls, through his throbbing member, and then to the rest of his body.

His breathing suddenly became ragged when Sansa’s demanding mouth left his cock to go lick his balls slowly, feeling her tongue wetly lave at them as one of her hands went to rub that bit of flesh between his balls and his arsehole, arousing him even more and making him feel a sudden need to release.

 _Oh fuck, if she doesn’t take me back into her mouth I may spill myself all over my tunic and my breeches,_ he thought wildly. Trying desperately to let Sansa know she best take his hard cock back in her mouth, Sandor let out a muffled groan and tried to wave at her frantically underneath the table.

Either his little bird wasn’t looking at him, being too engrossed in pleasuring him, or she was doing it on purpose. Either way, she kept on licking and suckling on his balls, taking each one into her warm mouth in turns, gently sucking on them, laving at them with the flat of her wet tongue while her hands went back to stroking his stiff member up and down.

Sandor was literally going mad. He wanted to fuck into Sansa’s hands so bad he felt his jaw clench painfully until he noticed one of the serving maids was looking at him with a strange look on her face. Sandor gave her a hard glare and she blushed a deep crimson before turning back to serve the guests. _Fuck._

Sandor now felt his release coming hard and fast upon him as his wife kept sucking and stroking his balls and his painfully hard cock, and for the first time since he was burned by Gregor, he started praying fervently to the old gods and the new for Sansa to take him back into her mouth . . . _now._

 _Oh gods, oh fuck! I’m going to peak_ . . .

He felt his balls clench painfully and he knew that it was almost too late as he started to let himself go, no longer able to hold back his sweet release anymore when Sansa stopped suckling on his balls and thankfully took his engorged, throbbing member back into her warm mouth, going down on him as far as she could go, making him release hard.

Sandor felt his seed spurting hot and fast into his little bird’s mouth as she gulped him down and licked him clean, swirling her tongue around his over-sensitized cockhead, making him inwardly shiver in pleasure all the while he was trying to keep the mask of complete boredom he was struggling to retain on his face when all he wanted to do was to fucking moan out loud.

As Sandor was slowly coming down from his climax, the blood still rushing in his ears, making him feel dizzy, he suddenly realized that Ser Barristan was talking to him again and was waiting patiently for him to give a reply, all the while shooting him a quizzical look.

“Yes,” Sandor rasped, having no idea in the seven hells to what he was saying yes to. But it seemed to satisfy the old knight who turned his attention back to Ibben once more.

Congratulating himself on what appeared to be one bloody lucky escape, Sandor then felt Sansa tuck him back into his breeches and pat him on the thigh. This time he dropped his knife to the floor and ducked his head down under the table again to speak to Sansa.

“That was stupid little bird,” he hissed again. “We were almost found out!”

Sansa looked at him with a wicked grin on her face. “And were we?”

“No, not exactly, but –”

“There you have it! Now, come to our chamber soon . . . I want you to come and fuck me.”

Oh, bugger it. Why was Sansa arousing him so much? His cock twitched again at her words. Fuck, he needed to think about anything else but fucking her, needed to stop thinking about her pink wet cunt, needed to think of anything else but having her moan her pretty moans underneath him . . . shit, he felt himself going hard again. Fuck him, he just wanted her so bad . . .

He glowered at her. “Fuck, Sansa! You’re the one who left me here with those fuckers and asked me to “entertain” them as you put it,” he growled low in his throat so no one would be able to hear him. She looked at him smugly and tugged at the laces at the front of her dress, almost releasing one of her wonderful white teats. Sandor stared at her. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Sansa. Try not getting caught!” he rasped.

She gave him another one of her dazzling smiles and handed him his knife before planting a wet kiss on his mouth, making the burnt side of his face twitch.

*****

In less than thirty minutes Sandor Clegane, the Lord of Winterfell and Sansa Stark’s husband had thanked his guests, especially Ser Barristan Selmy, had drank to their health, and begged them their indulgence as he had a pregnant wife to look after.

Then he almost ran to their bedchamber, his excitement at fucking Sansa running high. Fuck she was insatiable, he chuckled to himself. _I’m one lucky bastard._

As he quickly opened the door to their bedchamber in his eagerness, he was welcomed by loud moans coming from their bed at the far end of their large, warm room.

Sandor took a few tentative steps towards the enticing sounds and there, right in front of him and lying back on the large bed with her head propped up by a pile of soft feather pillows and naked as her name day, with her long legs opened wide, was his wife, his little bird, his Sansa. He could see that she was busy pleasuring herself with her long, deft fingers rubbing her hard little pearl of flesh over her slick wet folds.

Sandor smiled smugly to himself as he felt his cock harden again, pressing tightly against his breeches, making him groan in anticipation.

He slowly turned around and went back to close and lock the oaken door behind him, his step was now urgent as he wanted to join his wife on the bed and start pleasuring her too.

“Stay there!” Sansa called to him before he’d made it to the bed.

“What, little bird?” Sandor rasped, his voice thick with lust. “Why do I have to bloody stay there?” But he obeyed her, standing a few feet away from the foot of the bed which provided him with a perfect view of Sansa’s pink wet cunt.

He felt himself staring hard at Sansa’s mound and his rock-hard cock strained against his breeches painfully, seeing how her fingers worked at her hard little nub in tight sharp circles while her other hand kneaded at her wonderful teats. Sandor had noticed how they had started to swell and become bigger thanks to her pregnancy, just like her usually flat belly had also started to swell a little too, giving it a certain roundness.

“Fuck, Sansa! Why do I have to stand here? Didn’t you say you wanted me to come fuck you?”

“Yes,” she panted hard. “But before you do I want to try something new and different.”

That got his cock twitching again. Sandor groaned deeply.

“What do you want to do little bird?”

“Take off your clothes,” she moaned. Her fingers were still rubbing her hard little nub in tight sharp circles and her hips had started bucking lightly on the bed.

Bugger him, he was so excited watching her pleasuring herself like that. “Gods, Sansa,” he rasped. Sandor promptly pulled his tunic over his head, flinging it across the room as he hurriedly took off his booths and hoses. Then his fingers deftly went to his breeches, almost ripping them open as he let them fall to his feet and then kicked them across the room. In one swift movement he pulled down his smallclothes as well which pooled to his ankles, before they too went the way of his breeches.

Sandor now stood tall and naked as his name day and very, very aroused in front of Sansa. She moaned loudly at the sight of him, her eyes raking over his large, tall frame and rippling muscles before they flickered to and stared hard at his rock-hard cock, licking her lips at the sight of it.

“What do you want me to do now, Sansa?” he rasped, his voice low and hoarse.

“I want you to look at me while I pleasure myself,” she moaned again, her fingers rubbing her nub hard and fast.

“Sansa, little bird. Why are you always so bloody intoxicating ?” Sandor groaned, his right hand reaching for his stiff member now twitching out of the patch of course dark hair of his groin area in order to stroke himself.

“Don’t touch yourself yet!” Sansa whimpered as her hand stopped rubbing herself between her legs.

“What? Why?” He asked, incredibly annoyed.

“Because that’s what I want,” Sansa answered, her eyes glazed over with pleasure and arousal. “You’ll see . . .”

“Sansa that’s not fair I –”

“–Wait,” Sansa said again.

Fuck he was so hard, so bloody excited. He wanted to fucking stroke himself already, wanted to fuck her hard, why was Sansa telling him not to touch himself? That wasn’t right. _Seven buggering hells! I just want to fuck into my hand so bad . . ._

But Sandor was still the good dog to her wolf, so he obeyed her, his stiff member as hard as Valyrian steel and aching maddeningly, begging to be stroked to release and already leaking moisture at its tip. But he left his arms there by his sides, unmoving, while his eyes bore into her, raking over every single curve of her magnificent body.

Then he saw Sansa reach for something that lay beside her on the bed; he saw that it was her beautiful, silver hairbrush, the one that was engraved. The one she’d used to spank him with several weeks ago. His cock twitched again. _Fuck me._

“Right now I want you to look at me, Sandor. I want you to look at me pleasure myself, while I look at you, _before_ I finally allow you to touch yourself.”

“Oh, fuck, Sansa,” Sandor groaned again, unbelievably aroused.

Then he saw her grasp the hairbrush and, to his complete astonishment, she slowly pushed the smooth silver handle inside her wet opening, which in turn ripped a loud moan from her throat.

_Oh, seven hells!_

Sandor just stood there, rooted to the spot as he stared hard at Sansa now busy pleasuring herself with the hairbrush handle, watching her work it in and out of her cunt wetly, while her other hand went back to rubbing herself over her hard little nub.

Sandor could feel his cock leak more fluid he was so excited. Without thinking, his hand went to his engorged member to stroke himself when Sansa suddenly shouted “No!”

“Fuck, Sansa! I need to stroke myself already, I’m just too bloody excited . . .”

“Not yet,” she moaned again. “How excited are you?” she panted as she kept fucking herself with that hairbrush handle, her eyes still on him.

Sandor groaned. “Very excited, Sansa. Seven buggering hells! Why are you doing this to me? Let me touch you at least,” he almost begged. His breathing was shallow and ragged while his cock was throbbing hard. He could feel his pulse shooting back through his hardened member with each beat of his hammering heart.

“What are you thinking about?” Sansa asked him.

Sandor suddenly knew what she wanted – And what Sansa wanted was the dirty talk. Well, he was going to oblige her.

“I want to stroke myself, Sansa, I want to stroke my stiff hard cock hard and fast.” He suddenly panted.

“Yes,” Sansa moaned “. . . and then?”

“I’m going to stroke myself until I almost spill my seed all over my hand and my stomach, while I watch you fuck yourself hard with that hairbrush, Sansa.”

“Oh gods yes . . . what more?” Her hand was now pinching her nipples hard, molding her teats to her hand almost desperately.

Sandor could see how excited Sansa was, how she’d changed the rhythm with which she was fucking herself with that handle. Her strokes had become slower but they were also deeper. Her other hand kept alternating between pinching the hard little peaks of her nipples and her nub, rubbing it faster every time she touched herself there. Sandor was now as excited as a bloody green squire getting his very first fuck.

 _Oh shit, am I going to peak like this?_ Sandor could feel just how aroused he really was. His cock was so hard it was painful; he could also feel his balls tightening, clenching. His whole engorged member was throbbing, leaking, twitching.

“Then,” he rasped, “I’m going to fuck you Sansa, fuck you so hard and fast I’ll make you scream . . . make you scream with pleasure until you come so hard with my cock buried in you so deep you’ll pass out.” Sandor’s breathing was becoming ragged, his chest heaving hard at his own words. His excitement was so high he felt he would fucking soar on it.

 _Fuck I’m not going to last long like this. I want . . . I_ need _to stroke myself . . . oh bloody hells . . ._

“Oh, gods yes,” was Sansa’s answer as she started to fuck herself faster with the silver hairbrush’s hard handle. “Touch yourself now, Sandor. I want to see you fuck into your hand,” she moaned out loud.

Sandor almost roared at her words and he started stroking himself hard. His hand now working up and down his hard length heatedly which made him shudder in pure, unadulterated pleasure and relief. He stared hard at Sansa’s cunt, looking at that hairbrush sliding in and out of her rhythmically, the handle slick with her wetness.

His excitement was running high as he was pleasuring himself in front of her when she gasped, “grab your balls now, stroke them too,” she whimpered, her hips bucking off the feathered mattress as she kept fucking herself, her fingers rubbing her wet nub hard and fast, her nipples puckered into tiny stiff little peaks. Tiny peaks Sandor wanted to run his tongue over so badly right now, wanted to graze with his teeth, wanted to suck hard on . . .

Once again, Sandor obeyed Sansa and he grunted as his other hand reached down to cup his balls, stroking them lightly, squeezing them and making his pleasure build inside of him. He was breathing hard now, his head slightly lowered down with his dark hair falling over his eyes. The burnt side of his face was now twitching like mad with bliss, and his lips were pursed in pleasure. Still, his eyes never left hers.

He could see that Sansa was now out of control. She was moaning loudly as she was fucking herself hard. “Are you watching Sandor?” She panted again. “Are you watching me fuck myself?”

“Yes, Sansa, I’m watching you,” he groaned, aroused beyond belief.

“I’m going to come now,” she whimpered. “But you can’t come yet. Tell me you’re not going to come yet!”

Sandor grunted loudly. “I’m not going to come yet, little bird,” he promised. Shit, he wasn’t sure if he could hold to that promise, he was just too bloody excited.

Sansa’s back suddenly arched off the bed as she let out a loud wail. “Sandor, I’m peaking! Oh gods! I’m peaking now!” She moaned loudly as her fingers rubbed her hard little nub almost desperately, as she slid that slick silver handle in and out of her hard and fast.

Sandor saw her convulse on the bed as her body was overtaken with waves upon waves of pleasure, saw her ride out her release against her fingers and moaning loud and clear in the room while he kept on stroking himself firmly. He wanted – _needed_ – to release so bad he was going mad.

After Sansa had stopped moving, she slowly took the hairbrush out from her wet, swollen cunt and propped herself on her elbows. Her eyes were still glazed over with pleasure, her chest heaving hard and fast, and her wonderful teats swaying up and down with each breath she took.

“I want you to come and fuck me now, Sandor,” she breathed hard, her luscious mouth parted in desire for him.

Sandor roared again and in less than three strides he was at the foot of the bed, dragging Sansa to its edge by her ankles, making her squeal in surprise.

Hitching her hips up underneath one of his large hands, he steadied his hard manhood against her wet slit.

“ _Yes_ . . . I want you to fuck me hard now!” Sansa hissed, baring her white teeth at him. She then gave him a look filled with lust, a look he gave back.

After pressing the head of his cock against her wet entrance, Sandor entered her in one long slide, making her whimper in pleasure. Sansa wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him to her, and he started pounding into her relentlessly, his excitement running so high he knew it wouldn’t take long for him to spill himself inside his wife’s still-tight cunt.

“Fuck me hard Sandor, _please_ fuck me hard!”  Sansa begged him, moaning loudly. “I want to peak again . . . Oh gods! I’m so excited . . .” _Shit what is she doing to me?_ Sandor’s hips started to snap harder against hers as he started drilling into her, his left arm holding on to Sansa’s shoulder as he fucked her hard. He felt a fine sheen of sweat cover his powerful body while the sound of their slapping skins rose loudly into the room.

Gods he was excited. She was so intoxicating, so arousing, he felt he was losing his wits already _, I want to take her from behind_ , he thought wildly. He slid his hard member wetly from her cunt and quickly turned her over, making her stand on all fours at the edge of the bed and he entered her again from behind, making her gasp loudly in pleasure.

“Oh fuck Sansa, do you know what you’re doing to me little bird?” He grunted hard as he kept fucking into her in jerky movements of his hips. “Do you enjoy me fucking you like this now?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” she panted, snapping her hips backwards against him hard so he could enter her even more deeply, despite how large and big his cock was. It made him moan loud and clear with his little bird’s tightness surrounding him, crushing him, bringing him closer to his climax with each forward thrust of his hard member inside her.

He grabbed her hips with his large hands, his fingers digging roughly – almost cruelly – into her soft, white flesh. He was sure Sansa would bear the marks there tomorrow and he felt slightly guilty about it but then, he couldn’t stop himself. He was now fucking into her with a desperate need to release, his hips snapping hard against hers again and again while snaking his right hand over the slight swell of her pregnant belly, stroking her there lovingly before going up to cup and squeeze her wonderful teats, making them both moan in renewed pleasure.

Sandor felt the pressure in his cock, which was excruciatingly blissful, build fast again. His balls were already clenching hard and he felt his release coming right there . . . just around the corner . . .

“I- I want you to fuck me up there,” He suddenly heard her whimper.

Sandor stopped dead in his tracks, his cock twitching like mad inside of Sansa, his release just a few jerks of his hips away . . . “What did you say? What are you asking me little bird?” Sandor was incredulous. “You can’t be serious . . . I’m, I’m too big Sansa . . . I’ll hurt you . . .”

“No, you won’t,” she gasped, her head turned towards him, her gorgeous auburn hair falling in wispy, messy strands over her back and to one side on the bed, looking like a halo of flames around her beautiful features.

Sandor took his cock wetly out of her tight cunt again. “Sansa, I really don’t want to hurt you . . .”

She turned on her back once more, wrapping her wonderful long legs around his waist, pulling him to her as her right hand started stroking his hard member before going up to caress his taut, heaving stomach, brushing over the trail of dark hair that went to his groin and making him moan like a bloody buggering maiden.

“I want it, I want this . . . gods, I’m so aroused Sandor. Don’t you know how much you excite me? How much I want you?” She whimpered again, her eyes glazed over, her voice thick with lust, her nipples hard, her cunt so wet Sandor could see the slickness between her legs, soaking her wonderful thatch of red hair there. “Everytime I look at you, the only thing I can think about is you making love to me, taking me, pleasuring me.”

A strangled moan escaped Sandor’s lips at her arousing words.

Sansa then wrapped her arms around his neck to raise herself flush against him and started kissing him deeply, her tongue darting into his mouth, licking over the burnt side, nibbling gently on his lower lip and making him groan in pleasure. His hand went up to entwine itself into her soft auburn locks at the base of her head and pulled gently, fisting her hair, making her moan inside their kiss, before he buried his face into her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his mouth against hers again as he was nipping and nibbling at her lower lip before sucking on it gently.

“Gods, yes! I’ve been thinking about you fucking me there all day” she murmured, nipping back at his lip. “That’s why I left the feast early and pretended that headache . . . I couldn’t stand being next to you when all I was thinking about was for you to fuck me.”

_Oh seven buggering bloody hells, then I’ll fuck her tight sweet arse if this is what she wants of me . . ._

Sandor kissed her deeply and then laid her back on the bed not ungently. “Hold on little bird.” Sandor went to the head of the bed and brought the pillows with him. Then he tucked them under Sansa’s wonderful, firm arse, hitching her hips high enough for his cock to reach her there.

“Oh, yes . . .” she said and she licked her lips again, arousing him no end.

 _Oh fuck me._ He groaned.

“You’ve got to promise me you’ll let me know if it hurts too much little bird . . . I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was thick with both lust and worry.

“I promise you I will,” she murmured and then smiled at him, bucking her hips hard against him.

Sandor’s cock was still slick with her juices, but he entered her wet cunt with two of his fingers to wet them properly in order to slick her tight little arsehole with her own wetness, making Sansa moan loudly when his fingers fucked into her. He moved them in and out of her rapidly as her hips bucked against his hand, making him chuckle at how wanton his wife had become over the past few months – especially since she became pregnant with his pup – making his cock throb in time with his heartbeat.

_Fuck, I can’t believe I’m about to fuck my wife there . . . I’m just so fucking bloody aroused . . .  oh Gods, at least I’ll peak soon and Sansa won’t hurt much . . ._

After wetting her pink little arsehole and his hard member thoroughly with her fluids by fucking into her again, he steadied his hard cock over her tight opening, giving her a look that he knew was filled with lust.

“Yes, please, fuck me there,” she begged him again as her fingers went back to rubbing her slick little hard nub, making Sandor stare hard at her deft long fingers busy pleasuring herself again.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. Then he slowly pushed into her. _Just like when I first took her maidenhead_ , he thought wildly.

He felt the tip of his cock entering her tightness in one push and heard her groan and then hiss. Sandor stopped pushing and gave her an anguished look.

“Sansa, please, am I hurting you?”

“Yes, no, it’s- it’s alright. I’m so tight and you’re so big . . . just- just go slowly, _please,_ ” she panted.

Sandor obeyed her and pushed his hard cock slowly into her. He could feel her tense underneath him. But she kept on rubbing her hard little pearl of flesh over her slick folds, half-moaning, half-groaning loudly at the intrusion of his large, stiff manhood inside her taut little opening.

Slowly, he pushed into her; stopping when she tensed, seeing her screw up her face in both pleasure and pain, biting hard on her lower lip, pushing again when he felt her relax.

Sandor’s arms were straining on the bed besides Sansa while they supported his own weight so he wouldn’t press his hips too hard against her. Sansa’s own hands were grasping at his hard arms, scratching at him when he entered her slowly.

Then suddenly, he was all the way in, his balls tapping softly against her.

“I’m all the way in, Sansa,” he groaned. “What . . . what do you want me to do now?”

Sansa breathed slowly, her breath shallow and ragged. “I want you to start fucking me now, slowly, start slowly.” She moved her hips slightly against him.

Sandor started bucking his hips into her, his cock sliding slowly in and out, in and out. Fuck, she was so fucking tight!

As he slowly fucked into her he felt Sansa relax and gradually his cock started sliding more easily inside of her. Sansa started moaning again with each buck of his hips against her.

“Oh Gods!” she gasped. “It’s starting to feel good.”

 _Oh . . . seven buggering bloody hells_ , Sandor thought.

“How good Sansa, how good does it feel?” He moaned. Fuck, it was now his turn to ask her about how this all felt. He wanted to fuck her hard and fast, her tightness pressing all around his hard, aching member, making him shudder in pure pleasure and bliss. But he also knew he had to be gentle so as not to hurt her, and he wanted her to take her pleasure in what they were doing too.

“Your manhood, your . . . _cock_ feels so good inside of me Sandor . . .” Sansa gasped again, her hands still clutching at his arms, her nails scraping at his skin, leaving small red marks there. “It feels better . . . better than all the lemoncakes.” Fuck, he knew then that she was floating high on pure pleasure and bliss. “Oh gods, I want you to fuck me harder now, _please_ . . .” She whimpered loudly again, her hips bucking against him, her swollen lips parted in a little O of ecstasy.

Oh shit! His hips started moving hard against her again as Sandor snapped them against her again and again and again. The pressure in his cock so tight and pleasurable he could feel his release coming fast upon him once more, making him quiver in complete want of her.

_Not . . . much . . . longer . . . now . . ._

“Sansa I’m going to peak soon,” he rasped, his voice almost begging, urgent. “I’m, I’m nearing so fast . . . do . . . do you want me to stop?”

“NO!” she wailed. “I’m going to peak soon too, oh gods Sandor, look at me, I want to see your face.” Her arms went to his head and she brought her forehead flush to his, looking him deeply in the eyes, their breaths hot and fast against each other as they were fucking like wild animals now, or so it seemed to Sandor, their simultaneous moans rising loudly in the room. His hips were bucking hard against hers while her legs were now wrapped tightly against the back of his thighs, keeping them both in place as his hips moved jerkily while he fucked into her. Into her tight little arsehole . . . _oh bloody hells . . . she just feels so good . . ._

Sandor was grunting hard now. A fine sheen of sweat covering them both as his hips snapped hard against hers. “Sansa . . .” he moaned. “I’m going to peak . . . anytime . . . _now._ ”

“YES!” Sansa moaned while they looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Sansa’s pupils were blown, her face contorted in pleasure just as he knew his was . . . but he didn’t want to look away from her as he suddenly felt her start to convulse with her own release, one of her arms back to rubbing her hard little nub between them.

“Please, tell me when you release! I want you to tell me when you’re going to peak,” she whined against him. As she said this he felt her slide her long fingers inside her tight wet cunt, his cock already filling her completely inside her taut little arsehole. He felt her start working them deep and fast inside her while Sandor held her to him with his other arm just as his hips completely lost their rhythm.

“Oh gods!” He croaked.

Sandor felt his balls clench almost painfully when his release hit him powerfully like a crashing wave. He felt his cock pulse hard inside of Sansa’s tight opening, felt his seed spilling wildly inside of her as he fucked into her so hard and so fast he suddenly saw stars behind his eyelids, and everything suddenly went black as he shuddered in complete ecstasy. “Oh fuck . . . Sansa . . . my little bird, I’m peaking now! I’m peaking so bloody fucking hard!” he moaned and panted against her lips as she whimpered his name over and over again, “Sandor, Sandor, Sandor,” as he felt her body being rocked by the aftershocks of her pleasure.

Sandor kept fucking into her hard, his climax drawing longer than usual, his cock still pulsing hard inside of her before slowly, oh so slowly, he started coming down from his incredibly powerful release, his little bird still clutching to him as her body was still convulsing with the small aftershocks of her own release. “Sandor, my love,” she moaned loudly.

Then Sandor clutched her close to him, kissing her brow over and over again as he felt his cock softening inside of her, his heart beating so hard in his chest he thought he was going to die from it.

He found he couldn’t speak again.

Then slowly, his cock slid out of her tight opening and he shuddered again against Sansa before he realized she was speaking to him.

“My love, are you alright? Sandor . . . ?”

Suddenly their room came into focus again and he suddenly felt as if he was waking up from a deep sleep. “I’m alright little bird, I’m alright . . .” was all he could mutter, his breath ragged.

Sansa kissed him hard on the mouth, suddenly giggling against him. Sandor just stood there at the foot of the bed. His soft member still slick as Sansa went to the washbasin to clean herself up and bring back a clean cloth for Sandor to wash away his seed with.

He blinked at her as she handed him the cloth. Slowly, he washed himself up and then went to join his wife back on the bed. He laid beside her under the covers and she snuggled in his arms as his hand went down protectively to her belly, stroking her lovingly there again.

“Sansa, my little bird . . . that was . . .”

“Wonderful?” She asked, her eyes looking up at him so innocently he couldn’t believe that she’d had him fuck her into her tight pink arsehole just moments before.

He chuckled against her. “Yes . . . wonderful,” he rasped, a touch of mirth in his voice. “Did it hurt very much?” he asked hesitantly.

“A little at first, but then it started to feel incredibly good . . . especially as I saw how excited you were . . .” she trailed off, her voice now thick with sleep against his chest.

He kissed her brow lovingly again. “We’ve got to stop doing this little bird . . . shit, the next time my heart may just stop . . .”

Sansa laughed lightly. “What am I to tell our child then? That I killed his father with too much pleasure?”

“Too much pleasure . . .” he grumbled. Now that was a notion, he thought, as he slowly drifted off to sleep with Sansa’s warm body tightly nudged against him, while his arm wrapped itself protectively around her belly.


	5. When Queens Misbehave 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this fifth entry into the "When Queens Misbehave" series, Sandor and Sansa continue to misbehave all over Winterfell, while a visit from Jon has some interesting effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few changes have been made from the original text on LJ.
> 
> This has been Un-Beta'd and English is my second language. Please forgive any grammatical and spelling mistakes that may have crept in.

**When Queens Misbehave 5**

Sandor Clegane woke up as a massive wave of pleasure crashed through him, his cock pulsing so hard he was completely disorientated as he shuddered in pure pleasure.

There, straddling his thighs deeply was his little bird, his Sansa, riding her own wave of pleasure and moaning loudly while doing so on top of him. From the chafing he could feel over his groin area, he knew she’d just been riding him hard again.

 _Fuck, she’s at it again_ , Sandor thought.

His hands slowly went up to her sides, caressing her round belly first and then going up to her newly heavy teats, squeezing them lightly. Gods! he loved how big they’d become, how he could mold them to his large hands.

“Sansa,” he grumbled sleepily. “You’ve got to stop using me like this little bird.” He rubbed his calloused thumbs over her hard nipples, drawing light circles over them.

Sansa was panting hard on top of him, her chest – and her breasts – heaving up and down. Even in the darkness of the room, there was enough moonlight for him to see her newly curvaceous body.

Sansa moaned on top of him as she gave one more jerk of her hips against his and sandor could feel his hard cock gradually softening inside of her, could feel his seed slowly seep out of her cunt and leak over his groin. His arms unhurriedly made their way down to her hips, stroking her there gently.

She bent over him, the hard little nipples of her breasts brushing against his chest hair, making him moan despite himself.

She brushed her lips over his, her hand slowly going behind the nape of his neck before she deepened the kiss while Sandor responded eagerly.

She smiled against his lips. “I’m sorry my love, I just want you so much,” she sighed then rolled onto her back, lying beside him. Her right hand went up to slowly start rubbing him over the left side of his chest. Her knuckles brushing over his left nipple, making it pucker into a tiny hard peak.

He grabbed her hand and gently brought it to his lips, kissing each of her fingers in turn – they tasted like the juices of her pleasure – making her giggle.

She got up and went to the washbasin to clean herself of his seed. Rinsing the cloth thoroughly in the cool water, she then returned to the bed and started to wash him lovingly, her light fingers fluttering and cleaning him up meticulously, making his cock start to harden under her touch.

“Little bird,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep, “I know that you being with child is making you . . . _desire_ me even more, but I swear I don’t know how to keep up with you.”

She dropped the cloth to the floor, and snuggled against him, resting her head against the crook of his arm, her soft auburn hair tickling him. She chuckled. “You seem to be keeping up with me just fine, _ser_.” Then she giggled again.

Sandor was too sleepy to be mad at her using one of his blasted titles again. If it wasn’t _ser_ , than it was _my lord_.

He pretend-mocked her, “I swear you’ll be the death of me . . . can someone die of too much pleasure?” Sandor suddenly started to wonder if it was actually possible to die that way: Sansa truly was insatiable.

Then he groaned deeply when he suddenly felt Sansa’s hands go over his stomach and then further down to slowly stroke his balls and his cock again, making him fully hard.

“Oh fuck . . . little bird,” he moaned, fully aroused and awake now.

He felt Sansa grin widely against him before she sat up and straddled him again, her long legs on each side of him, steadying and sliding his engorged member into her warm, wet cunt.

*****

Sandor was making the rounds with Sansa as they visited the newly restored smithy. Inside, it was hot. Really hot, as the fires were stoked to keep them roaring and blazing like one of those raging fiery hells the septons liked to talk about to make shoes for the horses and forge new weapons for the men.

Sandor pointedly decided to wait outside.

“I’m sorry, I’m not stepping in there little bird,” he rasped. The fear of fire was still strong in him. He wondered if he would ever get over it. _Probably not_ , he thought.

Sansa raised her head and smiled sweetly at him. “It’s alright my love. I’ll do this alone.”

Sandor nodded and stood near the door, his eyes not leaving her as she made her way to Brendyn, the new young smith.

He was a tall man – though not as tall as Sandor was but tall nonetheless and built like a bull, just like most smiths were. He had a mop of dirty blond hair that was cropped short and eyes a deep emerald green that seemed to sparkle in the light of the burning fires. 

He saw his little bird talk to Brendyn, and he saw him smile shyly at her in return. He didn’t know why or how, but Sandor suddenly knew that the young smith was quite smitten with his young queen. His jaw suddenly clenched hard in jealousy.

 _Fuck_ , he thought. _Why in the seven hells am I being jealous? The little bird is in love with_ you _. What’s it to you that other men find her beautiful and attractive? Sansa is a beautiful woman after all; she does have a certain amount of admirers in the castle and the Winter Town, as well as in the whole bloody north and even the rest of Westeros, for fuck’s sake_.

Sandor struggled to remain composed as he noticed how Brendyn’s eyes raked over Sansa’s body, even though she was heavy with his child and her swollen belly was now clearly showing through the heavy layers of warm fabric covering her.

Then he heard her giggle and Sandor started simmering despite himself.

Screwing up his courage, Sandor walked into the smithy and stopped behind his wife, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder, making her turn towards him. She suddenly smiled brightly at him, and he realized she was happy he’d faced his fear and walked into the fires-filled building.

Sandor smiled lovingly back at his wife, and when she turned, he shot a murderous glare that told Sansa was his at Brendyn who noticed and turned a deep crimson despite the heat of the room, making Sandor smirk.

After Sansa had exchanged a few more pleasantries with Brendyn, and this one had showed her the new sturdy swords he’d forged, they left the smithy, returning to the cold frigid air of winter. Their boots made a light crunching sound on the packed snow while their hot breath rose like steam in the cold air.

“You didn’t have to be jealous, Sandor,” Sansa told him as they made their way to the stables. She looked up at him as they walked side by side, and then her hand went up to his, squeezing it hard while she entwined her gloved fingers in his. “But I’m glad you faced your fear and came to join me.” Then she laughed. “I’m sure Brendyn will keep his respectful distance with me now, especially after the look you gave him.”

 _Shit. How does she know?_ “Look, what look?” he rasped as he tried to look as innocent as he possibly could.

She laughed again. “Seriously, my love, I know you. Plus, Brendyn became so red I knew you’d probably given him a hard stare whilst standing behind me.”

Sandor chuckled. Sansa knew him so well.

They entered the stables to find it empty of workers but almost completely filled with horses. They made their way towards Stranger who was at the far back in the last stall. Sandor approached his beloved black courser and picked up some hay, feeding him as he stroked his horse’s forehead and muzzle. This one neighed softly and took the proffered food from its master’s hand.

Sansa came beside him to stroke Stranger too. His horse had become used to Sansa and he knew the both of them held a deep respect for one another. His heart warmed at the sight. The two, no, almost three now, beings he loved most on this Earth had become somewhat fast friends.

“When did Jon say he was coming?” he asked, rasping. Sansa had received a raven from her cousin, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and Queen Daenerys Targaryen’s husband about a week back, saying he would be coming to Winterfell to see Sansa and to offer his warm congratulations to the happy couple.

Sandor had briefly met Sansa’s former bastard brother the first time he came to Winterfell so many years ago when they came with King Robert Baratheon. Before all their lives were changed forever. He’d then seen the good-looking, dark-haired young man again when this one had made his way south to King’s Landing on the Kingsroad in order to marry the dragon queen, his cousin.

“Jon should be arriving in a few days,” she answered. He could see she was nervous at seeing Jon again. It had been well over a year now and Jon was making his way to King’s Landing to be back with his wife, having promised to be a year with her out of two. However, he usually made his way by ship and Sandor feared he was coming to see Sansa to personally ask for more men for the Wall.

Three young stable hands walked in to busy themselves with the other horses and Sansa took Sandor by the hand, opened the empty stall next to Stranger’s, and dragged him in after her. There she wrapped her arms around his neck, raised herself on tiptoe and lifted her face toward his and started kissing him deeply.

Sandor groaned against her lips as she kept on kissing him, her tongue darting into his mouth and licking him over the burnt and the unburnt parts of his mouth, sucking on his tongue and sending a hot stab of arousal coursing through his body. His cock started to harden in his breeches. “Sansa, little bird,” he panted against her lips. “The stable hands are here.”

“Yes. So what? They saw us getting into this stall, they won’t come here to bother us,” she said while she started showering his jaw-line and neck with light, wet open-mouthed kisses.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to him.

Sansa squirmed against him and then her hand went to palm the hard bulge straining against his laces, making him moan softly. “Sansa, please. There are people here.”

“Don’t worry,” she murmured. “I have no intention of unlacing your breeches and suck on your rock-hard _cock_ while people are about,” she said, putting the emphasis on cock. Somehow her saying that word had become fairly arousing to him.

Sandor chuckled against her lips. “Good.”

Then she looked him deep in the eyes, suddenly breathless. “Because I have every intention of making you peak right here still clad in all your clothes,” she told him as she started rubbing him over his garments, caressing over the tip of his hard manhood with light fingertips before palming his engorged member again.

“Fuck Sansa, please!” he pleaded with his wife but he knew it was a losing battle. He could see Sansa was already deeply aroused, her pupils already blown and she’d started breathing excitedly. Sandor just leaned back against the stall door, keeping it tightly shut with his large body.

Sansa resumed kissing him, swirling her tongue against his in his mouth as her soft hand continued palming him up and down over his hard length, making him as excited as fuck.

His cock was hard and straining painfully against the laces of his breeches while Sansa kept rubbing over him with all the strength she had. The sensation was incredible and the thought that there were people close by excited him no end, as he remembered the time when Sansa had sucked him off in the Great Hall during the feast given in honor of Ser Barristan Selmy a few weeks back. _Fuck, did the old knight even notice I was being pleasured under the table? Maybe he did but was too polite and_ knightly _to say anything._

Sansa was moaning into his mouth, her supple body pressed flush against his. Sandor noticed how she’d started rubbing her upper body over his chest sideways, trying to get some friction to her nipples against his chest, making Sandor smile into their kiss.

“Does the little bird have an ache now?” He asked innocently, looking as smug as he possibly could.

“Yess…” she hissed against him. Then she added “Oh, yes, please.” Making Sandor roll his eyes at her before he barked out a laugh. “Still the courteous little bird, are you Sansa?”

Sandor took her by the shoulders, pulling her away from him as she still stroked his hard member over his clothes, making him groan deeply again as his hips grinded into her hand of their own accord.

“Do you want me to rub you over your clothes too, Sansa?” he suddenly panted. Seven hells this was arousing him so much. He loved how wanton she was sometimes.

“Oh, yes,” she murmured.

He saw her shift a little and he noticed she was now rubbing her thighs together.

“Might be I don’t want to do that, little bird,” he told her quite smugly.

She looked at him hard. Then a dangerous grin appeared on her lips. “Really?” she asked him. Then she started to rub him even harder, making him shudder in want for her as she raised herself on tiptoe and she started biting and nibbling on his good ear, sending more wonderful shivers up his spine.

“Fuck . . .” he groaned. Then he bent over a little and he palmed her mound, his fingers starting to rub her rhythmically over the heavy fabrics of her skirts, making her close her eyes and moan in ecstasy before he cut her whimpers by kissing her deeply (it wouldn’t do to have the stable hands hear them fucking, now would it?) making his engorged member throb harder.

Sansa bucked her hips against his fingers as she started to use her other hand in order to stroke him harder over his breeches, flinging him into another level of arousal.

Sandor felt a sudden rush of wetness seep into his clothes and over the lower part of his stomach as Sansa’s strokes were slowly bringing him over that blessed edge again. He was panting hard, yet trying to keep his moans low in his throat so no one would hear them – though he had to admit that the fear of getting caught excited him profoundly.

Sansa too was having a hard time keeping her moans in check as his fingers worked at her, rubbing her nub through her clothes, feeling the fabric becoming damper and damper with each of his hard rubs against her.

Sansa’s mouth found his again and she started moaning into their kiss. Sandor moaned back as her tongue rolled wetly against his and suddenly they both started darting their tongues into each other’s mouths as if they were fucking.

 _Oh fuck, I’m so bloody excited. I wonder if_ . . . he started thinking.

As if Sansa was reading his mind she whimpered against him saying “Sandor, I’m too excited. Please, please fuck me.”

Then her hands left his throbbing cock, leaving him oh so close to his release and switched places with him, pressing her chest against the stall door and arching her back so that she could grind her sweet arse against his hard aching member, making him moan against her neck and her fragrant fiery hair as he tried his very damn best to stifle his own sounds of pleasure.

She lifted her skirts slowly over her wonderful arse cheeks and her hips and he saw that once again she wasn’t wearing any smallclothes, making him groan in renewed arousal against her when he saw her pink wet cunt, making his stiff member throb painfully against the laces of his breeches.

Sandor desperately fumbled with his laces to release his aching manhood. As soon as they were open, his cock almost sprang out of his breeches and he pressed it against her buttocks, the wetness that had seeped over his cockhead wetting the small of her back.

Sandor’s large hand went to her wonderfully smooth arse cheek and gave it a hard squeeze, molding her white flesh to his hand, making her whimper in pleasure as he both caressed and grabbed at it in turns.

 _Gods, Sansa is so intoxicating,_ he thought. Then he shook his head and chuckled inwardly at how fucking lucky he was to have the little bird’s love. His hand left her arse cheek to snake its way to the front of her body, stroking her round belly lovingly again, thinking about the little pup that was growing inside her, making him marvel at all the love he was experiencing with her, his beautiful Sansa.

“Please,” she whispered again, this time urgently, her head turned over her shoulder to look at him pleadingly as her hair fell freely to her back. “Please fuck me, my love,” she moaned again, her words barely a whisper now that they could hear the stable hands getting closer to them.

The three stable hands’ closeness made the urgency of what they were about to do even more palpable and thrilling, and Sandor realized how it was flinging him into another deep level of arousal, making him suddenly as excited as he’d been the first time he recollected fucking into his hand, when he came so bloody hard he remembered almost passing out from his very first climax.

“Shit little bird,” he rasped against her hair. “Why do you have to be so bloody arousing?”

She laughed lightly and then moaned. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

_Oh fuck._

Sandor steadied his hard manhood against her wet slit and entered her in one hard push of his hips. He saw Sansa was about to hiss as her head was still turned, watching him fuck into her when Sandor’s mouth reached for hers and he stopped her from making a noise by kissing her deeply again.

He started fucking into her in short, deep, upward thrusts so that the stall door wouldn’t creak with each and every movement of his hips. Sandor was panting hard in complete excitement at the thought that the stable hands probably knew exactly what they were presently doing. They were, hopefully, not that stupid. _They saw us get in here and they’re not really hearing us so they must know we’re actually fucking._

Sansa was now panting hard with each firm thrust of his hips and her eyes had taken on that glazed look he knew so well. Fuck me harder, she mouthed, as her face was starting to contort in pleasure and her hips were now snapping hard against his, her arms straining against the stall door to push against him in time with each of his deep thrusts into her.

Sandor started pounding into her, his cock sliding wetly in and out of her at a quick pace. _Fuck the stable hands,_ he thought. _I’m fucking my wife and I’m going to make her come hard around me and they can hear us all they like._

So Sandor changed the rhythm of his thrusts again and now drilled into her, the sound of their skin slapping together ringing noisily in his ears.

Sansa was also letting herself go and she started moaning loudly with each buck of his hips into her. She was so wet his rock-hard cock was sliding easily in and out of her, making the wonderful pressure in his cock hum along his hard length, making him soar on pure pleasure again.

Sandor was now too bloody excited to care if it was proper or not to fuck like this while other people could be listening in on their lovemaking. Seven bleeding hells, they could bloody stroke themselves to release if they pleased, Sandor no longer cared. In any case, he knew they would keep their tongue. Sansa was beloved by everyone but they were all afraid of him.

His breath had become ragged and his dark hair was now falling limply in front of his eyes. The burnt side of his face had also started to twitch in complete bliss and he could feel his release coming hard and fast upon him.

“Oh, fuck. Little bird . . . I’m nearing . . . are you close now?” Sandor panted as he kept on drilling into her, kept on snapping his hips hard against hers.

“Yes,” she moaned in a whisper. “Please, keep on fucking me.”

Sandor roared and looked down at what he was doing. He saw his slick hard cock rapidly slide in and out of his little bird’s tight wet cunt. Somehow, the sight aroused him even more, sending goose prickles up and down his spine, making his pleasure pool in the lower part of his groin area. He felt his balls clench hard and all he could see and feel was his cock entering her again and again and again while her moans had suddenly hitched higher.

He became dimly aware that she’d started rubbing her nub again.

“Sandor . . . I’m close . . . yes . . . please . . . I’m- I’m going to . . . to peak really soon.” She whimpered.

“Oh, fuck, yes little bird . . . I’m . . . Oh _fuck_!!”

Sandor suddenly peaked, his release crashing through him with a force that took his breath away, his eyes still locked onto his hard cock fucking into Sansa’s cunt and he saw – he felt – it pulse hard inside of her as he kept on thrusting into her, wanting to bring her to her own sweet release.

“Sandor yes!” she moaned loudly as his eyes flickered up to look onto her face while her head was still turned towards him, and he saw the look of bliss that suddenly appeared on her features and felt her cunt squeeze him hard in her ecstasy as she came around his cock, her own climax drawing the sweetness of his own release, making him groan in agonized pleasure.

Sandor was still panting hard as he fucked into her once, twice, three times again before he stilled and he felt his cock pulse one last time deep inside of her, as her cunt’s hard contractions around him too stilled.

They stood unmoving. Their breathing ragged. Their hearts now beating wildly in their chests almost in unison, it seemed to Sandor. It strangely reminded him of the sound of drums beating during a battle.

Seven buggering hells, his little bird managed to make each and every time they fucked exciting.

Waiting like this a little while longer, his hand back to caressing her round belly, Sandor felt his cock slowly soften and slip out of her wet cunt. They were both sticky with their juices and Sansa suddenly laughed when she saw the state of them, making him glower at her hard.

She grinned at him while he cleaned himself up with his cloak. Then he handed it to her so she could clean herself as best she could too.

“Thank you, _my lord_ ,” she grinned wickedly back at him, making him scowl at her even harder.

When they had managed to clean their satiated bodies and re-arranged their clothes as best they could, they slowly made their way out of the stall, Sandor coming out ahead. He looked left and right. No one there.

 _The stable hands are gone. Good. The little fuckers knew they were not wanted here_ , he thought smugly.

Sandor then took Sansa’s hand and led her out of the stall while she giggled in mirth.

 _Women_ , Sandor thought.

*****

Today was the day of Jon’s awaited arrival and Sandor couldn’t have been un-happier. Sansa had started fussing about giving Jon a room next to theirs – which Sandor didn’t understand since they usually were so loud in their lovemaking that he told her in so many words that Jon’s presence next to them would only hinder them – her – since she was usually so quick to demand pleasure from him.

Then Sansa had started sobbing uncontrollably and if there was one thing Sandor couldn’t handle well, well it was a woman’s tears. Not that this situation had often happened to him.

Maester Americk had warned Sandor that violent and unpredictable mood swings were often to be found in women with child and it was best never to contradict them in their delicate state. Sandor had snorted at the maester because there was nothing delicate about being pregnant. He knew it was a hard thing women went through. But he’d acquiesced to Sansa’s request and Jon was given bedchambers next to theirs.

At least, Jon wasn’t expected to stay for long, perhaps a sennight or two, no longer. In the meanwhile, Sansa would probably find new places for them to fuck, like she usually did. If there was one thing that Sansa was good at – besides being the Queen in the North and ruling with both a soft but firm hand – it was at finding queer places for them to have their pleasures in. He chuckled inwardly again.

At least, perhaps she would stop riding him at night for a short time and he’d finally be able to get a bloody good night’s sleep!

Jon made his entrance into Winterfell in the early hours of the afternoon accompanied by a few of his bedraggled brothers of the Night’s Watch and by his direwolf Ghost who followed quietly behind the small column of men all clad in blacks.

As he quickly dismounted, Sansa made her way towards him, her arms extended with tears in her eyes. “Jon!”

“Sansa!” Jon answered back, crushing her to him and holding on to her an inordinate amount of time, or so Sandor thought as he shifted uneasily on his feet.

The former brother and sister stood still in their embrace for a long time before Jon broke the hug first and looked her up and down.

“Sansa, you look beautiful,” he smiled at her.

“And you look gaunt,” Sansa answered back, worry in her sweet voice.

“I’m alright,” he replied.

 _He’s lying_ , Sandor thought. He could always whiff a liar a mile away and he had a feeling Snow was lying to spare his sister, no _cousin_ , grief.

Jon then eyed Sandor up and down, even though Snow was almost a foot shorter than him. “Clegane,” he said.

“Lord Commander,” Sandor rasped, looking down at him from his great height.

Then Jon extended his arm toward him and Sandor clasped it back. “Good to know you have made an honest woman of my cousin.”

Sandor chuckled. “I’m afraid, Lord Commander, that Sansa is the one who has made an honest man out of me,” he smirked.

“Well, it was about time,” he replied pleasantly enough.

 _Fuck, everyone really knew about us. Even Jon_ fucking _Snow on the bleeding Wall._

“I hear you have been dealing with a few unruly wildlings lately,” Jon continued.

 _Yes, well, it’s no thanks to you_ , Sandor was about to say when he saw the look Sansa gave him behind Jon, pleading with him not to start anything. “We’ve dealt with them quick enough,” Sandor replied.

“Good, good,” was Jon’s reply. Sandor saw a definite tiredness cross over Jon’s grey eyes.

 _We almost have the same eye and hair color_ , Sandor mused. _We could almost pass for brothers. If it weren’t for my half-scarred face and my Westerlander accent. That, and the fact that I’m almost a foot taller than him._

Sansa took Jon by the arm and dragged him inside the castle with her. “Come Jon, we have food and mead ready for you and your fellow brothers. Then I’ll show you to your quarters. You must be exhausted after such a long journey.”

*****

Sandor was deep in sleep when he was woken up by a tug at his shirt. He’d gone to bed nearly exhausted and almost fully clothed after a day spent with Jon in training down in the courtyard. He’d kept his smallclothes and his shirt on just in case . . . with Jon sleeping in the attending quarters he’d rather be dressed to face any type of eventuality. Like the bloody White Walkers suddenly appearing at the walls of Winterfell, for example. 

The tugging became insistent and he grumbled in his sleepy state. “What the fuck . . .”

He opened his eyes, now fully awake, on alert, and noticed a fire was crackling in the fireplace, casting an orangey glow in the room.

“What the fuck?” he tried getting up but found he couldn’t. “What the fuck!?” this time he roared it.

Sandor found he was bound to the bed, both his arms and his ankles tied with silken sashes.

“What the fuck?” he said again for the fourth time.

He blinked furiously as he struggled against his bonds and saw that Sansa had just sat herself right across him in their room’s high backed chair, wearing a nearly transparent nightgown. The play of the firelight made her skin glow almost a golden hue and she was looking at him with hunger in her eyes.

“Sansa, what are you doing?” he growled.

“I’ve moved Jon to another bedchamber,” she simply said, her lips pursed up in a wicked smile again.

_Uh-oh._

“Sansa . . . what’s this now? What do you want little bird?”

She smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?”

 _Well fuck me, it took her long enough_. Four days in all. Four bloody long days.

Sandor looked at her blankly. He decided he was going to play a little game with his little bird. “Why, I don’t know what you mean, Sansa. You’ve tied me up pretty good to the bed here. Am I supposed to imagine I’m your prisoner?” He drawled and looked at her smugly. He very well knew that _if_ he wanted to, he could probably break the bed by pulling hard enough at his bonds.

The flickering light danced into Sansa’s hungry eyes.

“Why yes, yes you are,” she answered back, suddenly baring her white teeth at him. Her hands slowly went up to tug at the laces of her nightgown and she freed her swelling teats from its light prison. Sandor could see they were rising up and down in time with her ragged breathing.

_Shit, she’s so fucking beautiful._

Sansa grabbed her breasts with her hands and squeezed at them, brushing her already hard nipples with light fingertips, rolling them between her thumbs and forefingers.

“Do you like what you see, Sandor?” she asked him.

“Why, I can barely see you, little bird, so I can’t say that I do.” He smirked at her.

He saw her hesitate for a moment. Then she rose from the chair and made her way to the foot of the bed, still brushing her wonderful teats with her white, soft hands. It was all he could do not to groan.

Sansa was backlit against the roaring fire so Sandor could see every one of her voluptuous curves through her nightgown, making his cock start to harden against his smallclothes.

Sansa noticed how his member had started to twitch and she smiled sweetly. “I believe, _ser_ , that you _do_ like what you see.”

Sandor grunted in response and pulled at the silken sashes to make a show of him struggling.

Sansa suddenly hissed.

She climbed on the foot of the bed and made her way toward him on all fours, her teats swaying with every one of her languorous movements.

_Oh, seven hells._

She slowly ran her hand over his thigh and went up to his thick hard shaft and started rubbing him over his clothes again. But against the light fabric of his smallclothes, the contact of her hand against his stiff cock made it all the more exciting and intimate than with breeches standing in between them, making him groan loudly despite himself.

“Sansa,” he growled again low in his throat.

“Sandor,” she hissed, her eyes glazed over with pleasure, her voice thick with lust. She rubbed at him harder now, seeing how he’d started breathing heavily in his excitement. Sandor felt his cock throbbing painfully with each of her desperate rubs over his smallclothes which were getting wet and damp as his cock started leaking.

He started bucking his hips hard against her hand, his hips rearing wildly off the bed in time with each of her rubs even though he’d had no intention at first to respond to her ministrations like this.

“I think you like what I’m doing to you, _my lord_.” She told him, arousal showing playing in her voice.

“Fuck, Sansa, you know very well I do,” he moaned. Fuck it. It felt too good. After four days he was close to bursting he was so excited again.

He wanted to touch her so badly now. “Untie me little bird,” he rasped.

“No, _ser_.” She kept on rubbing him, making him as excited as a bloody maiden again.

Sandor was starting to get annoyed. “Damn it little bird, untie me now. I want to fucking touch you.” His voice almost sounded pleading. _Seven buggering hells._

She smirked at him. “No, not yet my love.” then she lowered her mouth over his cock while she was still palming it. Sandor could feel her hot breath through the light fabric of his smallclothes.

“Yesss,” he hissed, bucking his hips towards her parted, luscious lips.

She stopped over him, her mouth just a few inches over his engorged, throbbing member and laughed. “What makes you think I am going to suck on you?” She then asked him innocently.

“Fuck little bird, then what do you want to do?”

“Oh,” she whispered, “you’ll see.”

Her teeth grazed over his hardened member, nipping at the tip of his cock lightly, making him groan in pleasure. His hips were still bucking wildly, as he wanted, _needed_ her to take him into her warm mouth. _Fuck, she’s making me react like a wanton._

“You _want_ me to suck on you,” she said again. Stating a fact rather than asking a question.

“Yes, Sansa, I do,” he almost begged her.

“Oh no, my love, that’s not what I plan on doing.”

Sandor groaned. _Fuck, what does she want to do now?_

Sansa went back to grazing the tip of his cock with her teeth, sending wonderfully pleasurable shivers up his spine again, whilst at the same time making him shudder in near agony. She kept on nibbling at it and laughed heartily when Sandor’s reactions were groans, moans and the bucking of his hips.

She lifted the hem of her nightgown and Sandor saw that she was now wearing smallcothes. He could also see they were soaked through between her legs, the red curls of her mound showing.

Sansa looked him deeply in the eyes and Sandor looked right back at her usually light blue eyes. He noticed how’d they now become as dark as the waters of a summer storm, and he gave her a lust-filled look, making her pant in arousal.

Sansa returned to grazing his cock with her teeth through his smallclothes while her hand resumed palming him and rubbing his throbbing member rapidly, making Sandor’s pleasure built strongly inside of him.

He tugged at his bonds again, this time a bit harder, making the bed creak loudly. “Sansa, please little bird, untie me.”

“No, not yet” she whispered back, breathless.

He could now feel her warm tongue licking at his length over the light fabric of his smallclothes, making him pant in pure arousal, and he could feel them cling to him where liquid had started seeping from his painfully aching cock.

After Sansa drove him wild for a few more long minutes as she teased, grazed and rubbed at his cock, her mouth and hand finally left his engorged member and she looked back at him with lust in her eyes.

“Do you know what I want Sandor?”

“What do you want little bird?” he asked her, his voice a low rumble.

“I’m now going to ride you hard, _ser_ , ride you hard over your clothes. Until you spill yourself in your smallclothes, until I come over you in mine.” She told him, her voice low and a bit hoarse. “But you won’t be able to touch me, oh no. I’ll be the one touching you all over Sandor, while you can’t do anything, while you’re completely mine.” Sandor could see how Sansa was deeply aroused. Her blue eyes now so dark.

She then went on to straddle Sandor, pressing her wet, warm cunt over his engorged member, making him groan and buck his hips again in pure unadulterated want of her. Sansa steadied herself over his cock, laying her two warm hands over his chest, panting in desire for him but unmoving.

Sandor was trying to stay calm, but his breath was ragged and his pulse had quickened to an alarming speed.

Sansa’s hands lifted up his shirt and she buried them underneath the soft fabric as she started caressing him over his chest, her light fluttering fingers entwining themselves in his soft chest hair. Her smooth thumbs found his nipples and brushed over them, making them harden into tiny peaks which in turn made him groan in pleasure and anticipation. Then they went slowly down over his hard heaving stomach, where she traced the trail of his dark hair down to his navel and almost down to his groin, making him moan again like a bloody maiden.

She bent over and started licking at his hardened nipples with the tip of her warm, wet tongue, suckling at them, driving him mad with need as her breath came hot and fast over him. That and the fact that Sansa was not moving her hips over him, something he wanted her to do very badly.

“Oh gods Sansa! Please start moving over me, I need you to rub my fucking cock with your hot, wet cunt,” he practically begged her, his voice a low rasp.

Sansa smirked over him and steadied herself again, pressing her right hand over his hard stomach, and started moving her hips over him slowly. Her dripping wet cunt was rubbing his hard leaking cock through two layers of smallclothes, making the sensation entirely different from when they rubbed each other when naked.

 _Oh, fuck! The sensation_ , Sandor thought wildly. _It’s fucking intense. Shit I wish she’d release me now, I want to touch her._

But Sansa still wasn’t releasing him from his bonds.

She was now rocking her hips over him hard and the rubbing feeling over his engorged manhood was incredible. They were now both so wet, their smallclothes properly soaked through, it made the entire thing extremely pleasurable for Sandor who was panting hard again.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck! Sansa, _please_ , release me. I’m too bloody excited. I want to touch you.”

“No,” she whimpered over him, her eyes now closed in ecstasy, her head tilted back, exposing her white throat to him, her wonderful auburn locks falling behind her like a fiery curtain and spilling over his thighs, her swollen, pregnant belly showing under the nightgown.

Her left hand reached behind her and she started rubbing and grabbing at his hard balls while she kept on rubbing her wet cunt over his rock-hard member, making him shudder in pure pleasure, his release slowly building inside him.

“Fuck Sansa,” he almost croaked. “This feels good. You’re going to make me peak soon little bird. Please, please release me.”

Sansa’s head snapped back and her eyes looked at him again, her lips parted in an O of pleasure.

Suddenly she produced a small dagger she’d kept hidden at her back.

Sandor hissed. “Sansa, what the fuck are you doing with–”

Sansa shushed him and bent over him, her hard nipples now brushing over his chest. Reaching for each of his arms in turns, Sansa quickly cut his silken bonds, freeing his arms and his hands.

Roaring, Sandor’s arms then went to her hips where he dug cruel fingers into her tender flesh and quickly made her rock her hips over him at a faster speed.

Sansa moaned loudly when the friction over her nub increased with every push and pull of his strong, muscular arms.

Sandor was now going mad with pleasure. Rubbing Sansa’s cunt over his increasingly aching member rapidly like that meant that his release was building hard and fast again.

He felt a hot stab of pleasure rush through him. From his balls – which Sansa was still rubbing maddeningly – to his painfully hard cock, and then to the rest of his body. It felt like liquid fire running through his veins.

Looking up at Sansa, he saw her eyes were closed in ecstasy again, her breathing had become ragged and her breasts were heaving hard and fast.

Sandor’s mouth closed around one of her hard nipples, grazing his teeth over it and making her moan again before he started sucking on it with the burnt side of his mouth, ripping another loud moan from Sansa’s mouth.

The way she was behaving excited Sandor even more as he kept on rocking her hips hard and fast over his hard member, rubbing her wet cunt over him rapidly – almost desperately – so he could get his release after so much teasing. Fuck him but he was floating so fucking high in arousal.

Then he reached a hand towards her mound and with one hard jerk he ripped the soaked fabric open, making her squeal in surprise.

“Oh, Sandor, yes please,” she moaned.

Sandor jabbed a large finger between her hard nub and his stiff cock, sliding it inside of her, making her groan in renewed pleasure and making his cock throb painfully again. She was so wet his finger slipped in easily. Then he curled it upwards inside of her and started rubbing that wonderful place inside he knew would make her come fast and hard around him.

Sansa’s reaction was intense. She started whimpering loudly while he was rocking her hips hard over his swollen cock, and his finger was not only rubbing that special spot inside of her, but it was also providing some blessed friction to her hard little nub.

Sandor was panting hard with each rub over his hardened member, each brush of her hand over his painfully clenching hard balls.

He knew he would peak soon, and from the way Sansa had slowly changed her whimpers to loud moans and then to little screams of pleasure, he knew she was also close to her own sweet release.

“Sansa, my beautiful, wanton Sansa.” He gasped. “Are you going to peak soon my beautiful little bird?” he asked, his breath ragged.

“Yes, yes . . . oh. Oh. OHHH . . . please don’t stop what you’re doing!” she whimpered over him.

Sandor roared again and he rocked her even harder against him. The pressure in his cock was intense and so pleasurable he felt his release coming right . . . there. _A few more jerks and I will spill myself in my smallclothes. Shit this is exciting._

Sansa’s screams of pleasure were now ringing loudly into the room as his finger still brought her great pleasure with each rub inside her tight wet cunt and over her hard little nub.

Sandor’s mouth had latched itself again to one of her teats and he was suckling on it hard, feeling her hard nipple inside his mouth, sucking on it between his teeth and his tongue, feeling it become so hard he knew it would bring her a mixture of pleasure _and_ pain.

Her screams of pleasure had now increased again and the way she rubbed his balls had become a jerky fumble. They were already clenching hard in molten ecstasy and the delightful pressure in his cock swiftly increased tenfold as Sandor suddenly peaked so fucking hard he roared his release over and over again, his hot spurting seed seeping into his smallclothes as he felt the little bird’s cunt contract hard and fast around his finger, making her moan so loudly he knew they would be heard.

They were grinding their hips desperately over one another in order to draw out this incredibly blissful pleasure, while they kept moaning loudly, when the door suddenly flew open and Sandor saw a half-dressed Jon _fucking_ Snow (he was only wearing smallclothes) rush into their room. His Valyrian bastard sword Longclaw was drawn and gleaming in the orangey light of the fireplace while Ghost padded in behind him.

“Sansa!” Jon gaped. “Are you alright?”

Sansa had snapped her head round and was now looking at Jon. Sandor could neither see her face nor her expression but he knew she was probably giving him one of her icy cold Queen in the North glare.

“Jon! What are you doing here?” Her voice was still dazed with pleasure but Sandor could hear the cutting tone behind it.

Jon’s eyes raked over Sansa’s half-state of undress with her teats hanging out of her almost transparent nightgown, to Sandor, who was still tied by the ankles to the bed with one of his arms still digging into her hips, his breathing ragged, his lips pursed in pure pleasure.

Sandor smirked at Jon while he saw the young Lord Commander blush a deep crimson.

“I thought,” he started, then averted his eyes. “I thought you were somewhat in trouble, what with all the screams I could hear, Sansa.”

 _Wait a fucking minute. Didn’t Sansa say she’d moved Jon to another bedchamber?_ “How the fuck did you hear that, Snow.” Sandor asked dangerously.

He saw Jon suddenly looking highly uncomfortable. “I could hear in the room next door,” he started slowly.

Sandor suddenly glowered murderously at Sansa who was still on top of him when she turned her head back towards him and looked at him intently. He could see her eyes were still glazed over in complete pleasure.

 _She knew_ , Sandor realized. _Of course she knew! She never moved Jon, she knew he would hear us fucking and it excited her. Fuck. The little bird lied to me._ Sandor was fuming at her. He was glowering so hard he thought he could make a whole right through her.

Jon was now looking intently at an invisible point in the corner of the room, pointedly avoiding his gaze at the sight of Sandor and Sansa in the last throes of their release.

“Well,” Sansa said. “As you can see I am perfectly well, Jon,” she told him, still a little breathless. “I am sure you can find your way back to your room now?”

“Of course,” he said, still embarrassed. “I’ll leave you both to, ah, erm, what you were doing . . .  please accept my apologies.” Then Jon promptly turned around, Ghost on his heels, and closed the door shut behind him, but not before Sandor noticed the hard bulge in Jon’s breeches. _Fuck_.

“Sansa,” Sandor began dangerously. “What the fuck were you playing at little bird? You shouldn’t have lied to me, should have told me Snow was still there, in the next bedchamber.” He was furious, the burnt side of his face now twitching in his anger.

His wife looked back at him innocently. “Hush now my love,” she smiled sweetly at him. “Don’t you think it was exciting that he heard us?”

“No little bird, I don’t. Seven hells! He is your bloody cousin, Sansa!”

She looked at him for a few long minutes and then she added, with another one of her wicked smiles back on her face, “if you’re so mad, then why did I feel your cock twitch and harden again when Jon walked into the room?”

 


	6. When Queens Misbehave 0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the sixth entry into the "When Queens Misbehave" series but is actually a prequel. It tells the story of Sansa and Sandor's very first (but still wild) time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few changes have been made from the original text on LJ.
> 
> This has been Un-Beta'd and English is my second language. Please forgive any grammatical and spelling mistakes that may have crept in.

**When Queens Misbehave 0**

Sandor Clegane took one look at his queen’s mount and saw at once that the mare had thrown one of her shoes and was now limping badly on its right hind leg.

Just minutes before, the bay mare had almost flung one Sansa Stark, the Queen in the bloody North and Sandor’s queen, to the cold hard ground which had been newly covered in a soft layer of fluffy snow the night before, just like a blanket of soft white feathers spread over a bed.

He had barked out a laugh when she had almost fell off the horse (Sansa had never been a good rider) before she turned her icy blue stare on him.

“Perhaps you think this is funny, ser?” She told him icily, her gaze boring right through him.

Fuck. His little bird had become this incredibly uptight ice queen since he’d left her in King’s Landing on the night of the Battle of the Blackwater.

He had found her again with the help of the bloody Lion, the Kingslayer – Ser Jaime _fucking_ Lannister – and that freakishly tall warrior woman Brienne of Tarth over a year ago in the Vale. Sansa had been living as Petyr Baelish’s bastard daughter Alayne Stone for almost two years when they’d finally rescued her from Littlefinger’s tight grasp, and Sandor killed the little mockingbird fucker – to his immense satisfaction. Sandor recalled how his blade had cut through his throat like a kitchen knife through butter.

Bringing her back north to Winterfell, with the might of an army made up of Westerlanders loyal to Jaime, Riverlanders under the command of Sansa’s uncle the Blackfish, and knights from the Vale who threw in their lot behind the legitimate heir to Robb Stark’s throne, they had crushed the Boltons’ grasp on the north and destroyed Euron Greyjoy and the Ironborns as well.

Sansa had now been ruling as queen for only a few months, and she was ruling her people with a soft but firm hand, settling into her rule with an ease that surprised even Sandor, whom she had raised as her sworn shield and the Lord Commander of her Queensguard – all against his bloody will.

Sandor grinned at her, the burnt side of his face twisting almost unnaturally with the effort. He didn’t get to smile that much and it always felt strange to him when he did.

“Get off your horse, little bird. Stranger will carry us the rest of the way,” he rasped, still grinning widely at her.

“Not unless you get off _your_ horse, ser. It would not do for my people to see me ride into Winterfell sitting on a horse with you.”

“Seven hells no, little bird. Stranger will bite your head off before he lets you ride him alone. You’ll sit in front of me,” he smirked at her. He was going to enjoy that. “I _am_ your sworn shield after all, _Your Grace_ , and your mare is lame. No one will think it strange or even question you riding me.” Fuck! What in the seven hells did he just say right now? He cleared his throat: “riding _with_ me.” _I bloody hope she didn’t get that first bit._

Sansa gave him another one of her cold stares again and got off her mare – Lady – with all the dignity and grace she could muster.

Then she handed him Lady’s tether which he promptly tied to Stranger’s saddle. The mare was frisky and was almost dancing besides Stranger. _Uh-oh, someone’s in heat,_ he thought and then he swept his gaze over Sansa who was waiting for him to pick her up with a frosty expression over her countenance. Sandor could see that her body was as taut as a bow string. _She’s so tense, the little bird looks like she’s about to snap._

Taking her small hand into his large one, Sandor easily lifted her up and sat her down not ungently in the saddle in front of him, her sweet arse pressing heavily against his groin. _Fuck me, I didn’t think this through._

Sansa turned her head towards him and gave him a wicked little smile.

_She’s going to make me pay for all this, isn’t she?_

Sandor grunted and urged Stranger forward, the gait of his horse making Sansa slide up and down rhythmically in the saddle, her buttocks pressing heavily against his groin with each of his horse’s movements. _Fuck me._

He was trying not to think about how her sweet arse was rubbing his manhood and how this was slowly starting to arouse and unravel him.

It seemed to Sandor that Sansa was even doing it on purpose, rolling her hips alarmingly over him with each of Stranger’s trots.

Then, what Sandor feared would happen happened, and his cock started to harden against each rub of Sansa’s firm buttocks against his member.

Sandor groaned despite himself.

“Why, what is it Sandor? Is something the matter?” she asked him, a little out of breath herself, or so it seemed to him.

 _Wait, is the little bird actually getting off on this too?_ He thought. She was obviously getting some friction against her nub in the saddle, maybe his little ice bird was starting to warm up after all. Maybe what she needed was to get her release and the ice would melt right off of her, _or might be what she needs is a good, hard fuck,_ he thought. He chuckled.

To test his theory, Sandor nonchalantly moved his right arm in front of her, brushed it against her breast and heard a small, strangled moan escape her lips.

Sandor smirked at her back.

Then she pressed her arse harder against his groin in retaliation and it was his turn to try and stifle a strangled groan. _Fuck me, she’s keeping at it._

Sandor kicked at Stranger’s sides to get his black courser to run at a higher speed, making the both of them bob up and down in the saddle, Sansa’s arse rubbing at his hard cock harder and faster now, sending a hot stab of pleasure through his body.

Fuck, he was getting too bloody excited by this. _This was definitely a very bad idea. Again._

Then, to his complete and utter amazement, Sansa leaned her head back against his chest, exposing her white throat to him, and her hand reached and fumbled against his and brought it between her legs.

 _Oh, fuck._ Sandor’s entire body suddenly tensed in the saddle.

She placed his long fingers over her mound, right over the heavy layers of fabric of her dress, pushing her warm cloak aside, and started to show him how to rub her nub, her light fingers pressed over his larger digits, guiding his every movements while she started moaning softly. “Yes, _yes_ , please . . . Sandor . . . please rub me, pleasure me. I want you to make me peak,” she suddenly panted close to his good ear.

 _Oh fuck! Seven bleeding hells!_ Sandor obeyed her – he was her dog and her sworn shield after all – and started rubbing over her nub intently. This was definitely starting to arouse him more than he could have possibly imagined and he felt his hard manhood press against her bottom in a maddening way. _Shit, I want to fucking stroke myself already._

Sansa’s hand then left his to snake itself backwards, her hand brushing the back of his neck with light fingertips, sending wonderful goose prickles down his spine. He decided to slow Stranger’s gait to a very slow walk, too intent he was on rubbing the little bird’s nub which in turn elicited some very pretty moans from her. Wouldn’t do to arrive at Winterfell in the state they were currently in, now would it?

“Are you taking your pleasure now, little bird?” He panted in her ear. “Do you like me pleasuring you like this? Do you want me to rub that stiff little nub of yours harder?” Sandor heard her whimper in answer and he increased the pressure of his fingers over her mound, his large hand going up and down over her nub rhythmically, ripping some ecstatic moans from her lips.

She’d started breathing hard in time with his ministrations, her chest heaving up and down rapidly, her hand fumbling with the back of his head, scratching at his scalp. Her moans were slowly becoming loud whimpers and then pure cries of pleasure while his cock started throbbing in time with each thunderous beat of his heart.

Then Sansa’s moans unexpectedly hitched higher and she suddenly let out a loud wail, her back arching against him violently and her hips rolling hard against his fingers and Sandor realized dazedly that he’d just made her – his little ice bird, his Sansa, his queen – reach her release against his fingers.

As she breathed hard against him, her head resting back limply over his chest while she was obviously coming down from her climax, Sandor desperately pushed her away from his agonizingly hard cock and barely managed to get off Stranger. “Fuck . . .” he groaned, running for the cover of the woods.

When he made certain he was far enough away from her, Sandor leaned back against a large tree and fumbled with the laces of his breeches that were now pressing painfully against his stiff erection. Barely managing to release his aching cock, he wrapped a large hand over it as soon as it sprung free.

Fuck, he was already wet, his pleasure brought liquid already leaking at the tip of his cockhead. After rubbing and spreading it over his slit with his thumb, Sandor started stroking his stiff manhood hard and fast. His strokes were almost desperate, his need for release so strong and so overwhelming he didn’t want to draw it out.

He grunted with each hard stroke over his cock, feeling himself reach that sweet edge that would then tip him over into his blessed release.

That was when Sansa suddenly appeared before him, making him freeze with his cock heavy and hot in his hand. Shit, with the blood rushing in his ears he hadn’t heard her following him.

“What are you doing?” she asked him almost innocently.

Sandor stared at her hard, his gaze boring into the blue pools of her eyes. Fuck it. He resumed stroking himself, smirking at her. _Let the little bird watch you getting your pleasure by fucking into your hand, that’s nothing to me_.

“Why, I’m stroking myself, _Your Grace_ ,” he drawled, a certain smugness creeping into his tone while his hand kept working up and down his hard length, the tip of his cock appearing and disappearing in his hand rapidly.

Sansa dropped her gaze from his eyes to his engorged member, opening her eyes wide in complete curiosity and licking her lips unconsciously. She slowly inched closer to him.

 _What is she doing?_ Sandor thought wildly. “Little bird . . . stay where you are,” he growled menacingly. _What the fuck does she think she’s doing? She can’t possibly mean to –”_

Then, without a word, Sansa sank to her knees in the snow, her pink, luscious lips mere inches away from his rock-hard cock. _Shit_.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with excitement, her breath steamy in the cold frigid air of winter. “I want to suck on you. How do I do it?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

“No, little bird, I –”

“Yes. I want to suck on your manhood, Sandor. How do I do it?” She repeated, her tone commanding, the exact same one she used as the Queen in the North. Fuck him into all the seven hells, Sandor could see she was serious.

_Oh, Seven bleeding hells._

He let go of his jutting cock which twitched madly at the arousing thought of his little bird sucking him off. Then he steadied it by wrapping his large hand around its stem again, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Bring your mouth close to the tip of my cock, Sansa,” he rasped, nervously. Fuck, he wasn’t sure if this was a bloody good idea. _It probably isn’t._

She did as he told her, bringing her lips close to his throbbing member and laying her hands on his thighs which made him shudder in anticipation; then she looked up at him eagerly, expectantly, licking her lips before she parted them slightly over him.

“Open your lips over my cock little bird and gently suck on it . . . like that . . . yes, that’s it,” he almost groaned as Sansa’s luscious warm lips closed over the tip of his cock and she started sucking on it wetly, making the most arousing sounds as she did so.

“Oh, gods.” He groaned through gritted teeth, letting her suck on the tip of his hard shaft for a few more minutes before he urged her on to go deeper. “Go down on my cock now, Sansa, slowly. Purse your lips over your teeth and start going up and down. Swirl your tongue over the tip before you go down on me again . . . Oh fuck . . .” It felt so bloody good, her mouth was so warm and wet around him, her breath hot on his over sensitized member – even though she couldn’t take all of him in, but it sent another stab of pleasure coursing through him.

Sansa did exactly as she was told, and the sight of his little bird’s head going up and down his thick hard shaft was enough to send him into another level of arousal, making his balls clench painfully. _Oh fuck, I’m going to come into her mouth if she keeps this up_. Then he started to panic. _I can’t come into the little bird’s mouth, she’s my queen for fuck’s sake!_

Feeling himself getting close to his release, Sandor pushed her roughly off of him, making Sansa cry out in protest as she looked up at him with a frown on her beautiful, perfect heart-shaped face, her lips now swollen red from sucking on his cock. Sandor hissed at the sight of her before he started stroking himself desperately again, cupping his hard balls with his other hand, squeezing them and bringing himself to release hard as his hand was stroking the length of his engorged member heatedly. Sansa’s eyes stared fixedly at how his seed spurted hot and fast all over him, her lips parted in pure desire.

When he’d milked every single drop of his seed from his cock, making himself shudder, Sandor slumped back against the tree again, his chest heaving up and down fast while Sansa still looked transfixed at his cock, saying nothing while she saw his hard member start to soften. Without a word he cleaned himself up with his cloak before tucking himself back into his breeches.

While she stared at him with her mouth still opened wide, Sandor suddenly became angry at her. Grabbing his little bird by the arm, making her yelp in surprise, he dragged her back toward Stranger.

“What are you doing?” She cried out as she struggled against his strong grip around her arm.

“Taking you back to Winterfell, _Your Grace_.”

*****

Neither of them said a word the rest of the way and as soon as they made their entrance into Winterfell, Sandor got off Stranger, grabbed and dropped a red-faced Sansa to the ground, stiffly bowed to her, and stomped to his room glowering at anyone and everyone who looked his way askance, slamming his bedchamber door shut behind him.

For the next hour Sandor paced his room over and over again, his mind reeling at what had just happened between himself and his little bird.

He’d long been attracted to Sansa Stark. Seven hells, ever since King’s Landing and, mayhap, even since the first time he saw her in Winterfell, but she’d been a child then. Too young and too innocent; and he had wanted to preserve that innocence, even that night when he’d shown up drunk in her room, the night of the Battle of the Blackwater, when he had almost taken her – before he abandoned her for the blasted Lions, to his endless fucking shame.

But now . . . now she was a woman grown, and she was his bloody queen. Sandor rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand at the recollection of what they’d done. He had made her moan, and he had made her come with his fingers, and then she had sucked on his cock and . . . _oh fuck_. He couldn’t quite believe that it had all happened.

Sandor sat heavily on his bed and put his face in his hands. How was he going to face her again? This was bound to change things between them now, wasn’t it?

He was still deep in thought when he heard a light knock at the door.

Sandor was of a mind not to answer but then thought better of it. Sighing deeply, he got to his feet and went to the massive oak door, unlocking it and opening it slowly, fearing who it would be all the while hoping it would be _her_.

There, on the other side of his door, was Sansa Stark clad only in a very light nightgown that was almost see-through. _Buggering hells! What the fuck is she thinking about?_

“Fuck!” Sandor hissed as he pulled her hurriedly into his room, closing his door shut and locking it back again as soon as he ushered her in, while she cried out loudly in protest at being roughly handled that way again.

“What are you doing here, little bird?” he growled dangerously. “Did anyone see you come here?”

“Do you think I’m that stupid?” She suddenly hissed. “No, I was alone, there was no one around.”

“Good.”

He repeated the question. “What are you doing here, Sansa?”

Sansa looked at her feet nervously before fumbling with her nightgown, smoothing it fretfully with her soft, white hands.

Sandor could see her nipples puckering through the light, almost transparent fabric and he noticed the red curls covering her mound, making his cock stiffen at the arousing sight that was before him. _Seven bloody buggering hells_. He knew he was fucking lost.

“I came here because . . .” Sansa started nervously.

Sandor glared hard at her. “Out with it little bird, I’m in no mood for your games.”

Somehow this made her angry. “I am not here for games,” she hissed, bearing her white teeth at him in her anger.

“Then why are you here Sansa?” he snarled back at her. He knew why she was here, and he wanted her to say it. He wanted her to admit to him that she wanted her sworn shield rutting between her legs.

“I’m here . . . I’m here . . . because I want you to fuck me!” she spat back in his face, her clear blue eyes now blazing with fury.

 _Fuck me but she looks beautiful when she is angry_ , was his last coherent thought before he closed in on her with a snarl of triumph, and his mouth went to cover hers, kissing her deeply, almost cruelly, his tongue parting her soft lips harshly and fucking her mouth wetly.

Sansa moaned loudly while she returned his kiss with the same fiery passion, her lithe body bending to his large frame while she squirmed so she could press herself flush against him, her arms wrapping themselves around his strong neck while he held her to him by her waist. Sandor felt his hard cock pressing against her stomach, eliciting a moan of pleasure from them both.

Sandor pushed her away from him, a low growl rising deep within his chest while Sansa panted, her cheeks red in arousal. Her hands went up to the laces that were tying her nightgown and with trembling fingers she loosened them, pushing the soft fabric off her shoulders, making it pool softly to the ground around her feet.

He stared at her as she stood there, gloriously naked in front of him, drinking in her wonderful body, looking over her firm, round teats, the pink nipples that were already puckered into tiny peaks of arousal, the soft curve of her hips, her flat stomach, the red curls that covered her mound, her wonderful long legs that didn’t seem to end.

Sandor let out a strangled moan and quickly took off his clothes, almost ripping off his smallclothes in the process. Fuck him but he was excited. His cock was standing fully erect out of the courser dark hair of his groin, almost twitching in anticipation, already leaking at its tip. He hadn’t fucked a woman in so long that his cock was as hard as Valyrian steel and painfully so. Oh, he had fucked into his fist countless times ever since coming north with the little bird, spilling himself in his hand more often than not, but he had never wanted to take a woman, and he really hadn’t known why. Until now.

In less than two steps he was on her again, scooping her off the floor while she gasped in surprise, and depositing her almost roughly onto the large bed. Then he parted her long legs with his and he lowered himself between them, his hard cock pressing painfully against her mound, making her moan loudly at the sensation.

“If I do this little bird,” Sandor warned in a husky voice, “then you’re mine. Have you thought this through Sansa? Have you thought about how this could affect any marriage alliance you could possibly make?”

He was telling her this all the while his hand started cupping and stroking her breasts, thumbing her hard little nipples and making her moan again at the sensation.

Her hips bucked hard against his at his words. “I don’t care about any alliances. I was always yours, Sandor,” she told him fiercely. “How can you not have known that? I have been yours ever since King’s Landing, even if I didn’t even know it then myself.”

“Sansa . . .” fuck, his voice sounded broken. He looked into her beautiful Tully-blue eyes, almost drowning in them. “It will hurt . . . you’re a maid, Sansa . . . and my cock is larger than most. But I can take it slow. Do you want me to take it slow, little bird?”

“No! I want you to take me hard, Sandor. I want you to take me hard, like the hard man you are . . . I want all of you . . .” she moaned, practically begging him to enter her while she rubbed her nub over his hard shaft by bucking her hips against him.

Sandor could feel how wet she was already. He lifted his hips off of her and steadied his hard cock over her wet entrance with his hand and gave her a look full of anguish. “Sansa . . . are you certain? Please, let me know if you want to stop this . . . before I take you . . . before I hurt you . . .” But while he was saying this, Sandor was rubbing the tip of his cock up and down over her wet folds, parting them as he was doing so.

“Take me, then,” she replied, her voice thick with lust. She rolled her hips hard over him, making the tip of his cock slip into her wet entrance easily, which in turn made her moan loudly at the new intrusion.

Sandor let out a guttural groan and in one hard push of his hips he completely entered her painfully tight wet cunt, making her almost scream in pain when his hard length suddenly filled her up.

Sandor stopped moving immediately and covered her mouth with his, trying to kiss her pain away. Soothing her by trailing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw line, nibbling on her earlobes and then on the crook of her neck, biting her there and making her shudder in pleasure as he sucked on it – as he was marking her as his. _Sansa is mine now,_ he thought almost exultantly. _The little bird always wanted me and no one else . . . fuck me. I never thought this would happen, never thought she would want me, her ugly, scarred dog._

Then Sansa’s hips started moving underneath him, encouraging him to start thrusting into her. “Please Sandor, I need to feel you moving inside me.”

Sandor raised himself up on his hard, muscular arms so as not to crush her with his massive weight, and he started rolling his hips against her while she wrapped her long legs around his waist. Sandor slowly slid his hard length almost completely out of her before entering her again at a steady slow pace, snapping his hips against her carefully, the sound of their skins slapping against each other rising in the room while Sansa was moaning loudly and writhing in pleasure underneath him when he thrust into her again.

Then she raised her head to his good ear and spoke to him. “Do you know what I have been doing alone in my room before I came here?” she panted against him as he slowly increased the tempo.

Sandor grunted. “What little bird?” he rasped as his hips snapped against hers steadily, her exquisite tightness surrounding his cock, almost crushing him, and yet she was so wet and slick he could still glide easily in and out of her.

Sansa chuckled and then she gave him a wicked grin before she murmured in his ear. “I was frigging myself off . . . _oh gods_ . . . while thinking of you . . . shoving my fingers in and out of my wet . . . _oh please don’t stop, harder_ . . . aching, _cunt_ to try to make myself come . . . but stopping . . . _oh, yes, there! Oh gods!_ . . . just before I could . . . I could peak.” She was completely breathless.

“Oh, fuck, Sansa . . .” Sandor groaned loudly at Sansa’s words, making his pleasure increase tenfold at the images suddenly flooding his mind of his little bird rubbing herself over and over again until she almost peaked, the sight of her long legs opened wide with her fingers shoved up her womanhood playing in his head, making him as excited as a green boy getting his first taste of a woman’s cunt.

He growled low in his throat and swiftly his hips started slamming into her relentlessly, making her moan loudly with each hard snap of his hips while she started fumbling with his hair and her mouth searched hungrily for his. 

After kissing her deeply again, he felt her hands leave his now damp hair to roam unhurriedly over his large, muscular back before slowly going down to his arse, where Sansa grabbed him in order to push him deeper into her as he fucked her hard, making him shudder in pure bliss. 

He was so close to his release now, his pleasure running so high he could feel his balls becoming hard and starting to clench as they slapped against Sansa’s arse cheeks repeatedly.

“Sansa,” he groaned as he kissed her back avidly while he still fucked into her hard, “I’m not going to last long now . . . fuck little bird I’m already nearing.”

“No, wait, not yet!” she whimpered against him.

Sansa’s right hand slid over her hard stomach to reach her nub where she started making tight sharp circles over the hard little pearl of flesh situated over her slick folds, rubbing it almost desperately. Sandor could feel her hand rub her nub hard and fast as he felt her knuckles brush against his groin and shaft in a maddeningly rhythmic motion.

Sandor’s mouth closed in around her right nipple, and he used the burnt side of his mouth to suck on it, trying to help bring her to her blessed release while he felt his approaching hard and fast upon him.

Her breath abruptly hitched and he felt her inner muscles suddenly clench hard around him, squeezing his hard member rapidly, feeling his release slam through him so strongly he almost blacked out as he spent himself inside her tight wet cunt.

Sandor and Sansa moaned so loudly together as they kept on fucking hard he thought fleetingly they would be heard. But it wasn’t any hair off his arse that everyone in Winterfell overheard them. His pleasure was so intense, so raw, so primal that all he cared about was that he was feeling this with his little bird. And from the loud moans that were escaping her lips he knew she felt the same way.

Sandor’s hips kept slamming into her until they had nothing left to give, while their hearts beat wildly like war drums in their chests. Then he covered her mouth with his, kissing her so passionately it left them both breathless.

After they stilled, and Sandor’s cock slipped out of her, he went to the washbasin to clean himself up, noticing the smudge of blood on his now flaccid member and washing it off. Then he brought a clean cloth to Sansa who took it from him with shaking hands while she lowered her eyes shyly and started to clean herself up.

“Is that what you were expecting, Sansa?” he asked her almost timidly as he sat beside her. Fuck, why was he so nervous all of a sudden? He’d just fucked her!

Sandor’s gaze went to her thighs where he noticed the smear of blood there too while she was cleaning it. _I just took Sansa Stark’s maidenhead,_ he thought wildly.

He reached his big hand towards her beautiful heart-shaped face, stroking her jaw line with calloused fingers. She looked at him with wide-opened blue eyes and her lips parted before she bit down on her lower lip.

He waited anxiously for her answer.

She took his hand in hers and brought his fingers to her lips, slowly sucking on each of them in turn, making his cock start to harden again which in turn made him moan. He saw that Sansa had noticed that his cock was stiffening again, now being more than half-hard.

“Yes,” she murmured. “My friends from the Vale, Randa and Mya, told me what to expect the first time . . . when you lose your maidenhead. That it could be . . . painful.” She shyly smiled at him, making his heart skip a beat. _My little ice bird has melted in my arms_ , Sandor thought, his heart swelling in his chest.

He reached out with his other hand to entwine his fingers into her long soft auburn locks, fisting it lightly and making her moan again. Then Sansa took the hand she still held in hers and shoved it between her legs.

_Oh gods, she’s already wet again._

Her hips bucked in pure reflex against his hand.

“Sandor,” she whimpered. “Can we do it again? I want you to enter me once more. Please?”

Sansa’s hand reached for his hard member and she started to stroke him slowly at first, unsure of what she was doing. After a few tentative strokes – which made Sandor grunt in renewed pleasure – she increased the motion and pressure over his cock, the way she had seen him stroke himself earlier. Her eyes were once again on his hard length, her lips parted in want of him.

“Your manhood is so warm and soft,” she murmured dazedly.

Sandor chuckled, then he groaned and wrapped his large hand over hers. “Stroke me harder little bird,” he told her, rasping. His head was lowered and his lips pursed in pleasure, his limp, dark hair falling over his face and his burns. He was guiding her hand with his, making her stroke him harder, which in turn sent some wonderful shivers up and down his spine again.

“Do you like stroking your manhood Sandor?” she asked him, her eyes now on him, looking at him deeply.

“Yes,” he rasped.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels fucking incredible, little bird.”

Sansa started to stroke him harder, his hand still wrapped over hers so his pleasure could be greater. His engorged member was so large after all that his little bird’s hand couldn’t wrap itself fully around his thick hard shaft.

“Does it feel better than fucking me, Sandor?” she panted, her nipples now puckered into hard tiny pink peaks that he wanted to lick badly, her pupils fully blown, the light blue of her eyes now a dark stormy gaze.

“No Sansa, it doesn’t feel as good as when I fucked you.”

She moaned loudly at this. “Will you fuck me again now?” She asked, her chest heaving hard in her excitement, her cheeks flushed red again. She was now rubbing her thighs together in her pleasure, trying to get some blessed friction over her nub.

 _Seven hells little bird, I’ll fuck you again until you scream so loud in pleasure you’ll beg me to make you come._ “Yes Sansa, I’m going to fuck you again.” What else could he say? He wanted to fuck her again so bad it was nigh on painful and she so obviously wanted this, wanted him.

Sansa whimpered loudly and leaving his cock she quickly got on all-fours and her eyes locked themselves onto his. “Fuck me like this, take me from behind.”

Sansa wiggled her sweet arse and Sandor groaned deeply. His cock was already aching at the sight of his little bird offering herself like this. He was used to taking whores from behind, and he sure as hells had never taken a queen before now, let alone taken one from behind either.

With a roar he positioned himself behind her and, grabbing her hips with his hands –and steadying his cock over her wet entrance – he entered her again but this time he let his rock-hard cock slowly slide into her, making her whimper and hiss so loudly at the sensation that it made him shudder in pure pleasure as his cock was slowly and blissfully surrounded and engulfed by her incredible tightness.

When he was fully sheathed to the hilt he stopped; staying unmoving deep inside of her.

Sansa’s head turned toward him, a look of unmistakable pleasure on her face, her red hair falling limply over her shoulder and onto the bed.

“Fuck me now _please_ , my Hound,” she begged him.

Sandor snapped his hips hard against her, making her moan when he did so.

“How hard do you want me to fuck you?” he asked as he brought his hips slowly but sharply against her a second time.

“Hard, fast, please. I want to feel you moving inside me!”

Without another word, Sandor started pounding into her again. The incredible pressure in his engorged member was intense and it was sending hot stabs of pleasure from his cock to his hard balls. Sansa was moaning and whimpering loudly with each buck of his hips into her.

With Sansa’s encouragements of “harder, faster, more,” Sandor drilled into her.

He could feel his release approaching hard and fast again but then he suddenly felt the need to see her face contort in pleasure underneath him, so he took his slick cock wetly out of her cunt.

Sansa whimpered in disappointment.

“Hold on little bird,” he rasped, “I want you underneath me again.”

Sansa hurriedly turned around and positioned herself on her back, spreading her long legs wide for him, her eyes half-closed in pure arousal, her hands grasping at the sheets on his bed.

Sandor stayed on his knees and with one large hand he lifted Sansa’s hips off the mattress. With one hard push he entered her with a primal snarl again, while Sansa moaned so loudly the sound rose loud and clear in the room.

Then he resumed pounding into her hard and fast. Sliding his slick cock in and out of her wetly.

“Oh Sandor, yes, _yes_ ” she moaned. Sansa’s teats were bouncing wildly with each buck of his hips and she grabbed her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, rolling her hard little peaks between her fingers.

 _Fuck this is so exciting_ , Sandor thought as he stared at her hands busy pleasuring herself with abandon.

Sansa was moaning loud clear and he saw the unmistakable look of pure pleasure slowly contort her beautiful features.

Sandor knew she was close to her release once more when her right arm went back between her legs to start rubbing her hard little nub again with her long fingers, making her whimper loudly.

Sandor’s hips were snapping against hers so hard and so fast now he felt his release coming just around the corner. _Just a few more jerks of my hips and I’ll come inside her again. Fuck this is so good. I still can’t believe I’m fucking Sansa Stark, that I’m fucking the little bird, my queen. Bugger me._

Sandor grunted hard as his hips started to move jerkily inside of her while his release was slowly approaching. The blissful sensation he felt inside his cock was driving him mad with pleasure.

He reached his left hand over her body to fumble with Sansa’s breast; _fuck, her skin feels so soft_ , thumbing her nipple hard as she rolled her hips hard against his, her legs now tightly encircling his waist and shaking with the effort and the pleasure he could see was slowly engulfing her when her face suddenly took on an expression of pure bliss.

Her eyelids started fluttering wildly and tears slowly streamed from her eyes as she both sobbed and started breathing hard. “Sandor! I’m peaking! oh gods _, oh gods!_ ” She almost screamed as her body started to convulse violently and he felt her cunt squeeze him hard and fast, making him slam into his own massive release when his cock pulsed so hard he saw stars. _Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!_ Dazedly, he became aware that Sansa’s eyes had now rolled at the back of her head and she now lay completely limp under him, her legs slowly unwrapping themselves from around his waist.

“Sansa, little bird,” he panted heavily, his hand reaching out to grab her face. “Sansa?”

She was still unresponsive. “Sansa!” He moaned louder, worry creeping at the back of his head.

Sansa slowly began to regain consciousness. “Sandor,” she moaned again. “Oh gods! It felt so good,” she sobbed. “Your manhood was rubbing . . . hitting something inside me I- I’ve never felt anything like this before . . .” she gasped hard. “It felt so wonderful, so amazingly good.”

Sandor groaned deeply and, depositing her hips on the bed again, his cock still in her, he leaned in to kiss her hungrily, his mouth teasing hers and quickly deepening their kiss while his hands were stroking her face and entwining themselves into her now-damp red hair.

“Sansa, my beautiful Sansa,” was all he could say. He knew she’d just peaked so hard that she’d blacked out, while he’d been the one giving her so much pleasure. It made his heart swell in complete and utter love for her. Because he had loved her for so long, had he not?

He crushed her to him while he brought his lips against her fragrant damp hair. “Little bird, my little bird, my beautiful Sansa,” he kept repeating on and on like a litany on his half-scarred lips.

Sansa hugged him back to her fiercely, her legs entwining themselves again around his waist as the last throes of their pleasure were still sending little aftershocks through their satiated bodies.

Then she murmured in his good ear. “It’s alright my love, it’s alright. Everything will be alright now . . . I love you.”


	7. When Queens Misbehave 6

**When Queens Misbehave 6**

Sandor Clegane was in the yard with Jon Snow, training with the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch under the watchful gaze of his wife Sansa and the Lady Miranda Royce, who’d just arrived in pomp and splendor at Winterfell to visit his little bird. Both women kept encouraging him and Snow in turns, laughing giddily and clapping as they did so.

The Lady Randa, daughter to Lord Nestor Royce, High Steward of the Gates of the Moon under Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and the Vale and Sansa’s little cousin, had made an unexpected surprise visit to Winterfell. Sansa had been completely elated at seeing her friend again and the two women had become inseparable ever since she had arrived.

“I had to come and see my Sansa when I heard you were pregnant,” she’d cooed. Sandor liked Myranda Royce well enough; she was a no-nonsense, direct woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She was also Sansa’s best friend and he knew her presence would make his little bird more than happy.

Now as for beating Snow in a sword fight, Sandor had the advantage of height and weight as well as speed on his side but Snow was surprisingly agile and good with a sword, meeting Sandor’s blows with swift parries and thrusts and a lightness of foot that belied how tired the Lord Commander truly was.

Sandor was holding back his blows, he knew he could, would, defeat Jon since he was strong as a bull, but for Sansa’s sake – and for the sake of Snow’s pride – he was doing his damn best not to make it show that he was.

After a good half-hour spent in sword fight, Snow laughed and Sandor smirked at the smaller man and they both clasped arms, calling it a day.

Sansa and Randa both applauded them thunderously while Sansa laughed heartily. “There are my two strong men! Well done!” Sansa then went to kiss her cousin Jon on his bearded cheek before she planted a kiss on Sandor’s lips, wrapping her arms around him, pressing herself flush against his powerful frame.

Sandor kissed her back, crushing her to him whilst being careful of her pregnant belly, stroking her lovingly there, making her smile at him brightly.

Sandor heard Jon clear his throat uncomfortably besides them and he released Sansa.

Ever since Snow had walked in on them while he and Sansa had been in the throes of their climax, the young Lord Commander had been mostly uncomfortable around them, though everyone was pretending it had never happened.

Except for Sansa who brought it up the following night, after Sandor had almost fucked her senseless again.

She was lying naked beside him, not feeling the need for sheets to cover their satiated bodies since a fire was roaring merrily in the fireplace – even though the walls of Winterfell were fed by hot springs. It was winter after all. He felt contented as hell with his wife’s head nestled in the crook of his arm. Her soft, fragrant red hair was in complete disarray and spilled all over the pillows and Sandor’s strong, muscular arm. Her fingers were playing absent-mindedly with his chest hair, tickling him.

“I think Jon is uncomfortable around us,” she started.

Sandor chuckled. “Little bird, the poor man walked in on us fucking like a pair of wild hares in heat. How do you think he’s bound to react? On top of that, he saw you naked, Sansa. Even though you’ve found out you two were cousins, he probably still sees you as his little sister. That and the fact that he was –”

“That he was what?” Sansa asked, lifting her head to look at him, the blue pool of her eyes observing him intently, drowning him again. Fuck him but her eyes were so beautiful. She was so beautiful, inside and out, his beautiful, wanton little bird. Sandor chuckled to himself again, thinking about how fucking lucky he was to have the love of such an amazing woman as Sansa bloody Stark, the fucking Queen in the North.

_She didn’t notice how Snow’s cock had hardened in his breeches when he saw us. Mustn’t mention it to her, unless she starts getting some new ideas into that pretty little head of hers again._

“That he was clearly embarrassed to find us like that. Fuck, Sansa. Don’t do that again,” Sandor rasped, trying to sound annoyed.

She didn’t say anything for some long minutes as she worried at her lower lip. Then she added, “Randa brought me something . . . interesting as a gift.” She paused and waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she continued. “Can I show it to you?” she asked, suddenly sounding more than a little nervous.

“Sure, little bird,” Sandor mumbled, feeling sleepy as hells.

Sansa rose from the bed gingerly and made her way hurriedly to her dressing table where a package wrapped in dark silks was waiting. She carefully unwrapped it and took out the item that was inside with nervous, fluttering fingers. Sandor saw a glimmer of silver from where he was lying but couldn’t clearly see what it was.

Then she returned to the bed with the mysterious item and showed him what she had in her hands.

Sandor was staring eyes opened wide and mouth agape at the contraption Sansa was showing him excitedly. It was, to all intents and purposes, some kind of cock made of smoothly polished silver with leather straps attached to it.

“What the fuck are you showing me, little bird?” Sandor rasped, his tone a low, dangerous growl.

“Randa brought this with her and gave it to me. Isn’t it amazing? She brought it back from her travel to Lys!”

Seven hells, Sandor didn’t like where this was going. Not at all.

“What do you intend to do with that, little bird?” His tone was still dangerous. And Sansa noticed.

She blushed a deep crimson.

“Well . . . I thought that maybe we could try it . . . if you want to, of course.”

Sandor glowered at her hard before growling his answer. “Never in the seven bleeding hells will I ever try that little bird. So you better get this idea out of your pretty little head of yours right now.” Gods he was fuming. Sansa was going too bloody far.

His wife just stared at him, her cheeks red. “I’m sorry I brought it up . . . I thought you might enjoy it since you enjoyed the time where I shoved my fingers up there inside you, since I enjoyed it when you put your manhood in me there as well,” she suddenly said icily.

Without another word, she promptly got off the bed once more and returned the contraption to its silken bag.

Sandor was angry as all the seven hells and his eyes followed Sansa as she made her way to her night table, her back and shoulders stiff. He knew she too was angry. But instead of getting into a heated argument with his wife, Sandor pulled the bed sheets to him, turned around without a word, and promptly went to sleep.

*****

Sandor Clegane knew he was dreaming.

He was in the courtyard of Winterfell again and was practicing sword fighting with Jon Snow. They were completely alone with no one there to see them do their complex dance of thrust and parry, thrust and parry.

They’d been fighting for hours and Sandor noticed that the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch was sweaty. Sweaty and _hard_. In fact, he could see the huge bulge at the front of his breeches straining under his laces, wanting, begging to be released.

Normally, Sandor would have dismissed what he was seeing but the sight sent a completely unbidden jolt of arousal course through his body.

_What the fuck?_ Was Sandor’s first coherent thought amidst the deep fog of the dream that was completely engulfing him, its invisible tendrils wrapping themselves around him, keeping Sandor in its powerful grasp.

Next he knew, both he and Snow were in the castle’s armory, putting away the swords they’d used for practice and divesting themselves of their armors piece by piece. Snow even helped him take off gorget, pauldrons, vambraces and the rest of his armor before helping with the boiled leather pieces with deftly expert fingers.

When they’d finished, Jon laid a light, warm hand over Sandor’s strong sinewy arm. It was so warm Sandor could feel the soothing heat through the fabric of his woolen tunic. “I know just the place where we can wash away the grime of fighting off our bodies.”

“Where?” Sandor rasped suspiciously. Why was he even asking him that? He’d no fucking intention or any desire to go wash the grime off of his body with Jon _bloody_ Snow!

“There are some hot springs in the godswood, even though winter is here and we’re surrounded by ice and snows, the springs are hot enough so we won’t be cold or freeze.”

Sandor eyed Jon suspiciously but then he grumbled under his breath and slowly acquiesced to Jon’s offer.

They made their slow way to the godswood through the newly fallen snow, where Sandor ogled the tall white and red weirwood tree – the thing always freaked him out – before Jon spoke to him. “Over there,” he pointed, “We’re almost here.” Sandor saw the steam of the hot pools rising into the cold frigid air of winter.

When they’d arrived at the hot pool, Jon looked at him intently and smiled, his grey eyes glinting in the fading light of dusk. _We really could almost be brothers_ , Sandor thought fleetingly again, as he took in Snow’s grey eyes and dark hair; so very much like his own.

The young Lord Commander took off his clothes unhurriedly, peeling each piece of clothing off of his body almost lazily and Sandor saw a body similar to his own, one well-muscled, despite his young age, and covered with a few silvery scars. Sandor’s gaze then fell on Snow’s groin and saw that his cock was hard again. Sandor had never seen another man’s erect member before. Naked men, yes; but fully aroused naked ones? No.

Somehow, the sight of Jon’s hard length jutting out below his navel made his own cock start to throb with each of his hammering heartbeat and he felt himself shamefully going hard, his shaft pressing painfully against the laces of his breeches. He tried to stifle a groan.

Snow heard it and laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh, just a mirthful one. “Come into the pool with me, Clegane,” he said as he sunk into the hot water.

Sandor thought it wasn’t such a good idea to go in there with Snow but something stronger than him made him take his clothes off – all the while Snow was staring at his hands unlacing the laces of his breeches – and he quickly stepped into the warm, soothing waters of the hot pool, sinking into the water down to his neck.

Sandor was keeping his distance from Snow but then this one unexpectedly shot him a lustful glance and Sandor’s heart suddenly started beating faster in his chest. _What in the seven buggering hells is happening? Why am I fucking reacting like this?_ Sandor was suddenly confused, and he knew that he should wake up now but he just couldn’t, so the dream went on.

Snow made his way to his side and he felt the young Lord Commander’s hand wrap itself around his half-hard member, making him almost jump out of his skin whilst his first thought was to close his large hand around Snow’s throat in a tight choking grip to pull him away from him. But he didn’t.

“Shhhh,” Snow soothed him. Then he started to stroke Sandor’s length, making him fully hard in just a few expert strokes, which made him groan softly. Fuck him but it felt incredibly good. Snow’s hand was calloused like his own, but it was larger than Sansa’s hand and encircled Sandor’s cock completely. Somehow, it just felt so fucking incredibly good to have someone else stroke him like that – since Snow obviously knew what he was doing.

Without wanting to, Sandor’s hips bucked into Jon’s hand and he groaned again, making Snow chuckle.

“You like what I’m doing to you now,” he asked. But it wasn’t really a question. Snow was slowly but firmly stroking him up and down his hard member, making him as aroused as he’s ever been in his life, having him soar on a wave of slowly building pleasure. Sandor had only ever truly felt such bliss from his own calloused hand . . . with a little bird’s soft hand underneath his large one . . .

He only managed to grunt in answer, making Snow chuckle again and then he gave him a wicked smile – a smile that was so very like Sansa’s – making him feel guilty as hell that he was having this arousing dream about Snow instead of her.

_Oh fuck, I need to wake the fuck up. It’s too bloody good, I don’t like it._

But somehow, he knew he was lying to himself.

Then he felt Snow’s hand tighten his grip around his thick hard shaft and felt him start to work his painfully aching cock harder and faster. Sandor began praying to all the bloody old gods and the new, even though he didn’t believe in any of them, that he would wake up now because the pleasure he was feeling was so intense and so wrong but right at the same bloody time it made him feel completely fucked up.

Even though it was a dream, Sandor could feel his pleasure building rapidly inside his agonizingly hard throbbing cock while he was in Snow’s expert hand. He could see Snow’s arm moving rhythmically under the water and it was making him moan like a maiden despite himself. He knew he was quickly getting close to his blessed release under the unrelenting onslaught of Jon’s hand over his hard cock, gasping and grunting his pleasure while Snow was stroking him heatedly.

“Tell me how much you liked what you saw when you noticed how hard my cock was in my breeches,” dream Snow said, his hot breath close to Sandor’s good ear he was so near him now.

Sandor didn’t know what to say. So Snow stopped stroking him and his hand painfully squeezed the stem of his cock – sending more pleasurable shivers down his spine. The pain was suddenly exciting him more than he could say, so used he was to it.

“Admit it,” Snow now said again close to his ear, making him shudder in overwhelming pleasure.

“Yes,” Sandor said through gritted teeth in pure fucking shame. But at the same time, it sent another jolt of arousal course from his cock to the rest of his body.

Snow gave him another wicked smile. “Turn around now, Clegane.”

Fuck, Sandor definitely didn’t like where this dream was going. _Wake up, wake up, wake up_ , he was telling himself over and over again but the dream still went on.

Without wanting to, Sandor did as Jon Snow bid him to do and he turned round, all the while feeling something like . . . fear? Trepidation? Expectation? Excitement? All of those mingled together into one scary unholy alliance?

Sandor was already tense as fuck when he felt Snow’s hand start caressing his backside before going down to smoothly stroke his arse, making Sandor freeze. His head snapped back to look at Snow, a low dangerous growl in his throat and murder in his eyes.

“Relax, Clegane, you’re so tense,” the young Lord Commander told him.

Then Snow’s calloused hands went back to stroking Sandor’s back and arse soothingly. Sandor was starting to relax – it wasn’t so bad after all – when he felt one large finger slip inside of him, making him tense as fuck again.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Snow?” Sandor roared so loud that his voice echoed up into the air. But only the tall sentinel and pine trees were there to hear him.

“What you really want me to do to you,” dream Snow went on before he took his finger off from inside Sandor’s tight opening.

Sandor scowled at Snow so hard his gaze almost bore a whole through him. Then he grunted and tried to relax again before Snow’s arm reached down his front to grab his cock and resume stroking him rhythmically, making him fucking groan in pleasure again. He could now feel Snow’s hard, erect cock pressing heavily at his backside, between his arse cheeks, and his own cock started to throb harder with each of Jon Snow’s firm pull over his length.

He knew he wanted this. Despite everything he wanted this. _Gods! It’s just a fucking dream after all, nothing to be ashamed of, nothing at all._

Then Sandor heard himself say, almost breathless, “Yes, do it Snow, just, for fuck’s sake just do it.”

He could almost feel Jon smiling behind him and Sandor tried to relax as much as he could. After all, it hadn’t hurt when Sansa had slipped three fingers inside of him, and he’d been really excited then. He knew just how much he was excited now and that it was, after all, just a stupid fucking dream.

So when he felt Snow’s cock, slick with his own pleasure-brought fluid, part his arse cheeks and press against his taut opening he tried to stay as still as he could and relax. “Bend over a little,” Snow told him breathlessly.

Sandor obeyed. Then he felt Snow use his calloused right hand to steady himself over his right hip before he felt his cock push against his tight entrance, the tip of his cock surprisingly slipping in easily. It was . . . uncomfortable at first as his insides strained to adjust around the other man’s hard member. Snow’s engorged manhood was big and large – though nowhere near Sandor’s size – so when he felt Sansa’s cousin enter him it didn’t hurt like he thought it would. Besides, it was just a dream after all, wasn’t it?

After pushing slowly, almost languidly inside of him, Snow was soon all the way in, his balls tapping softly against his arse. Sandor shivered in pleasure when he felt Jon’s cock touch that place inside him again, the one Sansa had touched when she’d entered him with her slick fingers; that place that had made him come so hard and so fast it had been the most exciting sexual feeling he’d ever felt in his life.

Starting to move his hips unhurriedly, Snow slowly slid his cock away, nearly pulling it completely out of him before he pushed in again, this time almost roughly, making Sandor gasp at the intrusion. But he gritted his teeth since the sensation was . . . fucking incredible and it _was_ bringing him pleasure.

“What are you fucking doing, Snow?” he rasped. “I’m not a bloody maiden that you have to fucking take it slow with. If you’re to fuck me, then do it properly and do it hard.” What in the seven hells was wrong with him? He hadn’t really just said that to dream Snow now, hadn’t he? Fuck him, what was going on? _Shit, I want to wake up now but I’m just too bloody excited . . ._

He heard Snow almost roar in exultation and felt the young Lord Commander start to drill into him relentlessly. Sandor could barely catch his breath as he felt Snow’s manhood fuck him rapidly in a unrelenting in and out motion, Jon’s hips snapping against him over and over again while his hand was still stroking Sandor’s stiff member hard and fast, sending hot stabs of pleasure shooting through his entire body, making him moan like a fucking wench.

In no time, Sandor’s pleasure built inside of him and he knew he was about to come. Then he panted through gritted teeth: “Fuck me harder Snow, harder.” Snow’s hips slammed into him with a force he didn’t know was possible in the smaller, lighter man, but he did and without warning Sandor’s intense feeling of bliss exploded into one powerful release and he roared while his cock pulsed so hard in Show’s expert hand he almost cried out in pleasure . . .

Sandor woke as his engorged member was spurting hot and fast. His own hand was wrapped tightly around his hard length, working it up and down hard and fast, waking Sansa who had been sleeping soundly next to him.

She stared at Sandor’s hard cock still pulsing almost violently in his hand, his seed spilling wildly over his groin and his stomach while he gasped and groaned his pleasure loudly, his hips bucking off the bed with a force that surprised even him. After the blood had stopped rushing in his ears, Sandor noticed that his little bird’s eyes and lips were parted excitedly at seeing him peak so fucking high like that.

Sansa’s hand then went up to his cock and she helped him milk the last drop of his pleasure, making his hips jump off the bed wildly as his body was still overtaken by the powerful aftershocks of his pleasure, making him pant hard, his heart beating so strongly in his chest he felt he could die from it.

“Oh, Sandor!” Sansa breathed excitedly when she saw him in that state of arousal, and he knew she was getting excited as fuck.

She moaned softly as he finally stilled on the bed, trying to get his heart to stop beating madly in his chest like that, a fine sheen of sweat covering his trembling body, his hair damp on his brow.

He saw her put her right hand between her legs and she started rubbing her nub desperately, moaning loudly in pleasure. “Sandor, please, suck on my nipples.” She asked him breathlessly.

Sandor just obeyed her and closed his mouth over one of her nipples, sucking on it with the burnt side of his mouth, just like he knew she liked it.

In no time, she was making the most arousing sounds as he sucked hard on both her nipples in turn, his large hand cupping each of her swollen breasts as he did so, while she was rubbing her hard little nub frantically.

Her hips were rolling against her long fingers and they were bucking excitedly against him. Her breathing was coming in hard, her chest heaving in her pleasure, and suddenly she stiffened and moaned as she reached her own peak, her hips now convulsing wildly against her fingers, against him, while she flung her leg over his hips in her climax.

“My beautiful wanton Sansa,” Sandor rasped, suddenly completely aroused again.

He quickly rose from the bed to go wash his seed off of himself at the washbasin and when he came back to their large, warm bed – to her – his cock was again fully erect. He could see Sansa’s eyes shining in the darkness of the room thanks to a clear moonlight spilling in and parting the shadows.

When he joined her again on the bed, he entered her in one swift stroke with a snarl of triumph while she moaned loudly, all thoughts and memories of his dream with Snow almost forgotten at the back of his mind.

*****

Sansa had organized another lavish feast in honor of her cousin Jon and her friend Randa. This one was giggling, obviously trying to seduce the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch – even though he was married to Queen Daenerys – while Snow was completely oblivious to Randa’s charms and her very open attempts at seducing him.

Sandor rolled his eyes at how clueless Sansa’s cousin apparently was in regards to sex and even maybe love.

_Fuck, she’d have a better chance at seducing Snow’s direwolf Ghost. I wonder if the dragon queen finds Snow arousing or even exciting when they’re together in bed. Does Jon even satisfy her? Can he fuck her properly? Maybe that’s why she also married her nephew Aegon. I wonder . . ._ then Sandor caught himself thinking these thoughts about Snow. He felt his face suddenly become hot, and he would probably have blushed a deep red had he been a bloody maiden. What was wrong with him? Maybe that dream with Snow had rattled him more than he cared to admit. Fuck him. Fuck Snow. Bugger it all.

Sandor became sullen and slowly started to simmer while everyone else was enjoying the feast, including Sansa who was now talking excitedly with her friend Randa.

Fuck it. “Sansa, I’m leaving. Give my regards to everyone,” he rasped.

Sansa looked at him with worry etched plainly on her beautiful heart-shaped face. She placed a small, light hand over his own, large one. “Sandor? What is wrong my love?”

“I’m just not feeling right Sansa. I’m going to our bedchamber.” He squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “I’ll wait for you there.”

Then he made his excuses to Randa and Snow and left the feast as discretely as the Lord of Winterfell possibly could.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

He was now angry as all the seven hells. Why the fuck did he have to have that bloody dream about Snow last night? He knew it meant nothing to him. He’d never been attracted to another man in his fucking life and he sure as heck wasn’t attracted to Jon bloody Snow.

He stomped his way back to his and Sansa’s bedchamber and closed the door shut with a loud bang behind him. Fuck him. He was in love with the little bird. He loved her body and soul. She was the only person on this damned Earth that meant anything to him, besides Stranger and now the little pup growing daily inside of her, the only person he’d ever truly wanted in his rotten life and he knew that hadn’t changed.

But at the back of his mind was this little nagging voice that kept taking him back to that buggering dream. You liked it, it was telling him. In fact, you _loved_ it.

He needed a fucking drink.

Leaving his bedchamber, he made his way to the kitchens where he raided the pantry to the curious glances of the kitchen staff. He knew they’d shut up about it because they were all afraid of him. Sandor made out with as much as seven wineskins. Dornish red, just the one he favored. Fuck, he needed that wine more than he could say. He hadn’t been drunk in such a long time now he knew he would get drunk fast, just what he wanted. Then he’d be able to dull the damn memory of that dream he didn’t want in his head in the first place. Or did he?

Back in his and Sansa’s bedchamber, Sandor started emptying the wineskins at an alarming speed and he was starting to get pleasantly drunk. Sitting himself in the corner of the room directly onto the floor, his back to the wall, he emptied one wineskin after the other.

That was how Sansa found him when she came back from the feast an hour later.

“Sandor, what are you doing there?” she asked him sweetly, worry etched plainly across her beautiful features again.

“Sansa,” he slurred. “My beautiful little summer bird.” Gods it was getting hard to think. He wasn’t used to drinking so much wine so fast anymore, and he had a hard time wrapping his tongue around his words. He used to be so good at it, back in King’s Landing. The room was spinning dangerously around him, like a ship caught in a whirlpool, spinning round and round toward its unavoidable doom. Sandor chuckled.

Sansa kneeled in front of him.

“My love, are you drunk? Why are you drunk? What happened?” Sansa was obviously really worried about him. He tried to make her feel better.

“Nothing . . . no- nothing happened . . .” Fuck! Why couldn’t he think straight?

“Sandor, I know you, something happened. Why else would you be drunk? You haven’t been drunk once ever since we came back here to Winterfell.”

Sandor could hear how worried she really was from the tone of her voice. He looked at her and smirked.

Fuck him! He was such a bad husband. _Why did the little bird marry me in the first place?_ Sandor could feel all his insecurities rushing back in his mind. _She- she could have made better matches if it hadn’t- hadn’t been for me._ Gods he suddenly felt so sick he wanted to heave the content of his stomach on the floor.

“Sandor, come back to bed my love, please,” she pleaded with him.

_I’m worrying the little bird . . . I should- should go to bed and sleep- sleep it off . . . fuck . . . Damn me I’m so drunk. Might be I’ll get sick. No, can’t, don’t want her to- to clean up after- after me . . . bugger it all._

Sandor tried to rise but he was so dizzy he fell back heavily against the floor. “Gods, too much wine.” He knew Sansa could not lift him up by herself, she wasn’t strong enough and in her pregnant state it was better she did not try.

“I’ll be back my love,” she told him.

He saw her leave the room and he suddenly felt really sick again. Then a few minutes later he saw Sansa return with Jon _fucking_ Snow in tow. _Oh buggering hells._

“Jon, please help me get him in bed,” he heard her tell her cousin.

_Why- why the fuck did she bring Snow with her? Of all the people in the castle she had to bring him?_ He snorted. _Of course she did, he’s her cousin,_ and he wouldn’t wag his tongue about Sandor being as drunk as a fucking squire on that piss that passed as wine in one of those seedy inns.

Snow may be smaller than him but he was still strong, and with Randa’s help – the pretty plump woman had followed them into the room – they managed to get Sandor onto the bed where he fell heavily on top of the feathered mattress.

He reached his arm and dragged Sansa to him down onto the bed. “Little bird,” he slurred. “I love you . . .” then he fell into oblivion.

*****

The next morning, Sandor woke with the worst hangover ever. Sansa was already up and about and he knew she was at her small council meeting so he decided it would be best to stay in the room for the day since he wasn’t feeling good. She’d left him a flagon of cool water and a cup on the table next to him. Sandor drank the water but though it quenched his thirst it also made him queasy.

The day pretty much went by with him still lying in bed when the silken bag on Sansa’s dressing table caught his eye.

He tried to push it at the back of his mind but after he’d started fuming and simmering on the bed again he decided to make his way warily to the table.

Hesitantly, he fumbled with the bag and took out the contraption Sansa had shown him to examine it closely. The silver cock was a fair size but not too big and it curved slightly upwards, just like a real man’s cock. And as he ran his large hand over it he noticed just how smooth it was. He turned it around to look at it from every angle, playing with the leather straps and peering closely at the craftsmanship used in the fabrication of this . . . sex thing.

Then Sandor grunted and put it back in the bag.

He asked for a bath to be brought up and whilst the servants were filling it with steaming hot water, Sandor cleaned his teeth carefully with a twig. When the servants left the room, Sandor took off his tunic and shift, his breeches and his smallclothes, and sank into the hot water all the way down to his neck, feeling himself relax a little.

Taking the bar of soap, Sandor washed his hair and then cleaned his large body thoroughly. At least when Sansa got back she’d find him clean and sober and no longer stinking of wine.

He felt like a complete bastard again for behaving the way he had last night, getting drunk and making her worry about him in her state – and he was hells-bent on making it up to her.

Sandor took out his nicest shirt and some soft calf-leather breeches and got dressed. Then he had supper brought up to his room while he got to waiting eagerly for his little bird to return to their bedchamber.

Sansa arrived not long after supper, and when she saw him up and about and looking sober and well-dressed she gave him a dazzling smile which pierced him through the heart.

“Sansa, little bird, I’m really sorry about last night,” he started. But in just a few steps she was on him and she covered his mouth with hers, kissing him hungrily.

“Shhhh,” my love. I’m the one who is sorry. I shouldn’t have shown you Randa’s gift. I should have known this was something you would be unwilling to do.” She blushed at him. “After all, you’re a warrior, the strongest, bravest man I’ve ever known. This isn’t something for someone like you.”

Sandor shifted uneasily on his feet.

“It’s not that Sansa, really,” he rasped as his strong hands took her by her shoulders. Then he tipped her face between his thumb and forefinger. “Fuck little bird, I . . . I’m ready to try this . . . if . . . if you still want to.”

Sansa blinked at him a few times for a moment and Sandor felt his face getting hot. He couldn’t bloody well say what he really wanted to say so he was waiting for her to say it out loud for him. When she obviously didn’t, his eyes flickered to the black silken bag on her table.

Sandor saw Sansa’s face flush for a moment, as a light shade of pink crept into her cheeks.

“Oh Sandor, are you sure?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’m willing to try . . .” Fuck he was so bloody nervous. He still wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but he figured that maybe it could help him deal with that other problem he was having, that he couldn’t talk about, even to his wife whom he knew loved him so completely that it physically hurt him, just as he loved her. But he was just too fucked up about this to open up to his little bird.

Sansa rose herself on tiptoe and wrapped her slender arms around his neck, bending his tall frame to hers and she kissed him fiercely, almost excitedly. Sandor let her soft mouth part his lips as she let her tongue lick both the burnt and the unburnt part of his lips, then she darted it inside his mouth, sliding her tongue wetly against his, making him moan loudly into their kiss before she nipped at his lower lip with her teeth, almost growling like the Stark wolf she was which in turn made him shiver in pleasure.

When they finally stopped kissing, they were both breathless and Sansa’s lips parted into a dazzling smile that almost broke Sandor’s heart into a million tiny pieces with love for her.

“Take your clothes off,” she murmured excitedly.

Sandor obeyed her and he slowly took off his clothes while she did the same, unlacing the front of her blue velvet dress with slender, nervous fingers.

When they both stood naked as their name days in the middle of their bedchamber, they went for each other. Sandor crushed Sansa to him while she bent her slender, pregnant body to his, whilst Sandor was careful of her swollen belly. His hands caressed her all over, twining his hands into her soft, fragrant red hair, pulling at it lightly and making her moan into his mouth. Then he bit on the crook of her neck before sucking hard on her soft, white flesh, marking her there with a purple bruise. She moaned loudly at the sensation while her hands caressed his powerful chest and arms before stroking over his stomach, sending him high in pure arousal.

They kissed like this for what seemed to Sandor like an eternity and he was now, to all intents and purposes, hard against her, his cock folded between their bodies and his pleasure-brought fluid smearing her belly.

“Go sit on the bed,” Sansa told him, completely breathless.

Sandor made his way to their large bed and sat on the edge. Sansa went to her dressing table and took out the silver cock out of its bag, strapping it with nervous hands to her body. Sandor noticed how her fingers fluttered shakily as she adjusted the leather straps to her. When she was ready, she made her way towards him, the silver cock standing fully erect in front of her, while his eyes followed her intently.

Then she sank to her knees in front of him and took his aching cock into her warm mouth while her hands slid slowly up his thighs.

Sandor groaned deeply at the feeling of his little bird’s warm, wet mouth closing around his hard length, sending a jolt of arousal course through his entire body. She started to suck on him noisily, little moans of pleasure escaping her lips as her head bobbed up and down over his engorged member.

He felt her go gown as far as she could possibly go, the tip of his cock nudging at the back of her throat, sending another hot stab of pleasure through him. Then he wrapped his large hand around its stem so he could stroke himself in time with her sucking him off.

Sandor groaned loudly when Sansa stopped sucking him to lick his hard member with the warm flat of her tongue and tease the leaking slit of his cockhead with the tip of it. She repeated the motion a few times, each time eliciting a moan from his lips while the burnt side of his face was starting to twitch in pure fucking bliss. Then she slowly started to suckle on each of his hard balls, taking one after the other into her warm mouth, making him groan loudly in pleasure again.

“Lie back on the bed now, my love,” she then murmured to him, her eyes shining in her excitement, her luscious swollen lips parted. Sandor obeyed her, lying hurriedly on his back in the middle of the bed and spreading his legs open, knees up with his heels digging into the mattress. She then climbed onto the soft feather mattress and made her way tantalizingly towards him, the silver cock bobbing up and down with her every movement. She trailed warm open-mouthed kisses all over his thighs right up to his cock again, where she took him back into her mouth.

Sandor’s hips bucked off the mattress at the sensation and he grunted in pleasure. Slowly, he felt Sansa’s fingers make their way back to his hard balls, rubbing them slightly between soft fluttering fingers, stroking between them, making them clench almost painfully at the blissful sensation he was experiencing while her mouth and his hand resumed working up and down his hard length.

Sandor propped himself on his elbows and watched Sansa shove her fingers inside her cunt, moaning loudly as she worked them in and out slowly, wetting her fingers properly.

He braced himself while his heart started beating wildly in his chest when Sansa’s hand slowly made its way between his arse cheeks, and she started to make soothing circles over his arsehole. Then, slowly, she pushed her middle finger inside his tight opening, making him groan at the intrusion.

He felt Sansa curl her finger upwards and start rubbing him there, making him hiss in intense pleasure as his hips bucked into her mouth. “Oh gods . . . suck me harder Sansa,” he growled low in his throat.

Sansa promptly obeyed and began to suck on his rock-hard cock harder, swirling her tongue over the tip of his leaking cockhead, wetly lapping at his length while she worked her finger in a maddening motion that brought more wonderful shivers up and down his spine, making his warm skin rise in goose prickles.

Sandor entwined his hands into Sansa’s long auburn locks once more, loving the silken feel of it in his hands, twirling a lock around his big index finger before fisting it at the nape of her neck and pulling on it lightly, making her head turn slightly sideways so he could watch her suck on him. Then he pushed her head down over his cock to make her take more of him while he groaned deeply, his breath coming in raggedly in pure fucking pleasure.

Sansa moaned loudly and she started rubbing her finger inside Sandor harder, slipping a second slick finger into his opening, making his hips jerk up again.

“Gods Sansa . . . it feels good,” he half-moaned, half-grunted.

Sansa’s mouth let go of his swollen cock wetly and she lifted her head up to look at him with lust written plainly across her face, her eyes so dark he knew she was deeply aroused. “Sandor,” she panted hard, “let me know when you’re ready.”

For one brief moment Sandor suddenly tensed.

Sansa noticed.

“My love . . . we can stop this if you want to, if you don’t feel comfortable with trying this . . .” she was telling him in her sweet voice, her eyes almost pleading with him.

He didn’t know why but Sandor suddenly got angry as all the seven buggering hells. Was she going to make him beg for it now? Was that her plan? “Seven hells no little bird. I said I was fucking ready to try this so we’ll try this,” he snarled at her and as soon as he did, he felt like a complete bastard again.

Sansa looked at him thoughtfully. Then she grinned wickedly at him.

_Well, she didn’t feel threatened by me at all. When in the Maiden’s teats did that start to happen?_ He was the fiercest warrior in Westeros, a fucking killer! He’d just roared at her and she was looking at him with her sweet face. Well, piss on that. Now he was fuming again. He felt completely emasculated by his little bird and he was about to let her fuck him?

“Sandor, it’s alright if you’re scared.”

Sandor glowered at her. “We’re doing this little bird. That’s final.”

Sansa cocked her head and smirked at him. “Turn around, then, my Hound, and get on all fours like the good dog you are.”

Sandor shot her a murderous glare again but he grumbled all the while he slowly did as she bid him. When he was standing on all fours in the middle of the bed, his arse completely exposed to Sansa, he swore loudly. Once again, Sandor felt completely ridiculous. _Shit I still can’t believe I’m fucking doing this._

He felt Sansa press herself flush against his buttocks and her soft hands made slow, reassuring circles over his arse cheeks. But even though she was trying to get him to relax, Sandor was still fuming and his whole body was as tense as a crossbow.

Faintly, he became aware that she was spreading the wetness of her cunt over the silver cock. _Fuck_. He knew he had to relax now or if he didn’t it would probably hurt as all the seven hells.

Sansa seemed to sense his need to alleviate the tension so she reached for his cock and started to stroke him hard and fast, her hand gripping his engorged member as hard as she could as she worked his length up and down heatedly, making him moan again at the bloody amazing sensation of her soft, warm hand working him up and down.

Sandor wrapped his hand around his wife’s smooth one and helped her stroke him hard, while he let his mind get flooded by the memories of his recent powerful dream with Snow. Sandor started thinking about how deftly the Lord Commander had stroked him, which slowly but surely made his cock become as hard as Valyrian steel, and he started to grunt in intense pleasure at the shameful yet deeply arousing memory.

He closed his eyes shut and let the exciting images completely flood his mind like an unstoppable deluge, making him as excited as all the seven hells, while his and Sansa’s hands stroked him rhythmically, making him soar on a wave of pure unadulterated bliss.

Then Sansa’s hand left his hard cock while he kept on stroking himself, bringing him slowly towards that sweet edge when he felt her steady the silver cock between his arse cheeks.

Sansa started sliding it up and down between his cheeks, the slickness and smoothness of the contraption allowing it to glide easily. Sandor’s heart was beating hard in his chest both in excitement, fear, and trepidation.

Then Sandor slowly felt himself relax while Sansa spoke to him.

“It’s alright my love, everything’s going to be alright. I’ll bring you pleasure. You’ll see, just let me know if it hurts and I’ll stop.”

Sandor only grunted in response, too far gone was he as he let the memories of dream Snow stroking him hard and fast in the hot pool engulf him, the feel of his calloused hand bringing him so much pleasure while Sandor stroked himself with a force he didn’t know he possessed, making him approach that sweet edge again, feeling his balls harden at the intense feeling of arousal he was experiencing.

Through his fog of bliss, Sandor became aware that Sansa had slicked the cock again with her own juices and then he felt her press the tip of the smooth, cool, silver contraption against his tight entrance, making him shiver in expectation. Bugger him. He really was about to do this, he was about to let his little bird fuck him.

Sandor took a deep breath and relaxed, letting the memory of dream Snow pressing the head of his cock against him overwhelm him as he felt Sansa pushing against his taut opening.

He relaxed, and relaxed, and relaxed and breathed and he felt the cool, slick cock enter him slowly, parting his insides carefully, feeling himself adjust gradually around the contraption and making him hiss in slow, burning pleasure when he felt the cock push steadily into him until it was all the way in when Sansa’s round belly pressed itself against his buttocks again, her soft hands stroking his cheeks soothingly once more.

Sandor slightly turned round, his lips pursed in pleasure, his dark hair now limp with sweat, the burnt side of his face twitching madly in pure arousal and he looked dazedly at Sansa whose cheeks were flushed red. Her luscious lips were parted in desire and excitement, her nipples puckered hard into tiny little peaks. Sandor stared at them, his face taking on an almost animalistic look while he suddenly growled low in his throat, thinking he’d very much like to lick and suck on them right now.

“I’m all the way in Sandor,” his beautiful wife told him excitedly.

“Yes,” he hissed again. “I can feel it inside me. Start moving slowly little bird,” he told her while he was pumping his hard length excitedly.

Sansa moaned at his words and steadied herself behind him by grabbing hold of his hips with her soft hands, digging her fingers into his flesh. Then she started moving delicately, withdrawing the silver cock from Sandor’s tight arsehole slowly, almost agonizingly. Sandor hissed again at the intense sensation. Then, before she reached the tip of the cock, she slowly entered him again, pushing into him with great care, making Sandor gasp in renewed pleasure.

His beautiful wife repeated the motion again, and again, and again, each time moving with care inside of him while he kept on stroking himself. Then he panted through gritted teeth “Harder Sansa, fuck into me harder.”

A strangled moan escaped Sansa’s lips and she started to move her hips faster, increasing the tempo with which she was thrusting the contraption into him.

The silver cock was stroking his insides in a way Sandor had never felt before. It was more exciting than the feeling he’d felt with dream Snow, more intense than Sansa’s fingers inside of him, the hard cock filling him completely and hitting that blessed spot inside of him that felt so fucking good he was floating on a cloud of complete and utter ecstasy.

Sandor felt the burnt side of his face start to twitch again in intense pleasure, his breath coming in ragged as he panted and gasped and groaned his pleasure with each of Sansa’s blessed snap of her hips against him.

“Oh you fucking gods! It feels so fucking good Sansa,” he groaned loud and clear. “Fuck- fuck me harder little bird, don’t be afraid to snap your hips harder against me.” He couldn’t believe he’d just said that, couldn’t believe he was actually feeling so much bliss right now, it was driving him mad with unending, all-encompassing pleasure. _Shit this feels so good, oh fuck I want her to fuck me harder. I want her to fuck into me so fucking hard I’ll explode in pleasure._ He groaned loudly while he heard Sansa moan and whimper behind him.

The memory of dream Snow came back full force in Sandor’s mind, flooding it again with exciting images of Sansa’s cousin thrusting into him heatedly, the Lord Commander’s hard cock making him gasp in agonized pleasure with each hard snap of his hips while Sansa was fucking into him harder.

Sandor moaned loudly and he resumed pumping himself even harder and faster than he thought possible. A deep pleasure engulfed him and was sending him as high as the fucking seven heavens the septons liked to talk about while the silver cock Sansa was working inside of him was swiftly bringing him closer to his release.

He started to snap his hips roughly against Sansa as she kept on thrusting into him, literally fucking himself against his little bird. He heard her moan loudly behind him and felt her hands reach to grab his painfully hard balls. She started stroking them and grabbing at them harder than she usually did, flinging him into an entirely new level of arousal.

He was so bloody excited, so fucking aroused it was driving him mad. “Stroke my balls harder little bird, squeeze them hard,” he panted again while he kept snapping his hips backwards against her, against the silver cock. He was so fucking excited he felt like the blood in his veins was on fire.

A loud moan was ripped from Sansa’s throat and she obeyed him, grabbing his balls forcefully, almost painfully.

He thought of Snow fucking him hard just as Sansa fucked into him hard; he thought of Snow roughly grabbing his painful balls just as Sansa squeezed them hard; he thought of Snow peaking so hard and so high while he fucked into him that the thought sent Sandor soaring high on pure, unadulterated pleasure. Sansa gave one more hard jerk of her hips into him, hitting that bloody exciting spot inside of him that felt better than anything he’d ever felt in his life and he _wanted_ to come now, _felt_ he was about to come now.

Then she panted, “I want you to turn around Sandor, I want you to lie on your back, I want to see your face.”

“What?” he asked, he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. Fuck he was so fucking close, it felt too good.

“Yes,” she moaned, “I want to see the pleasure on your face.”

Oh fuck. Sandor stopped snapping his hips and Sansa let the contraption slip wetly out of him. It felt strange, almost like a loss to him. But he turned around to lie on his back, raising his knees up while he dug his eels into the soft mattress. Sansa kneeled between his legs. “Raise your legs up, Sandor,” she murmured excitedly while she stroked the silver cock to slick it again with her juices. “Wait,” she added. “I need your hips higher up so I can reach you.” She took the pillows from the head of their bed and shoved them under his hips and his arse.

Fuck he felt completely ridiculous again with his hips hitched up by the pillows and his legs high up against him, but at this point he was too bloody excited to care. He wanted that cock inside him again right now.

“Sansa,” he groaned. “Shit little bird I’m too fucking excited, I need you to fuck back into me again.”

His little bird let out another strangled moan and she steadied the hard cock against his entrance again. Shooting him a lustful glance, she entered him in one stroke, making him gasp and hiss loudly at the returning, burning intrusion.

He resumed stroking himself heatedly while Sansa was snapping her hips against him even harder than before, making him groan in pleasure with each of her thrusts into him.

“Tell me how much you like it, Sandor,” she asked him excitedly. “Tell me just how excited you really are.”

The change of position and angle made the cock sink into him differently, and it was rubbing that place inside of him even more pleasurably, sending him sky high on an all-encompassing wave of intense bliss, almost unraveling him completely.

“Oh _Gods_ Sansa. It feels so fucking, amazingly good, my wanton little bird. I just want to come, I want to come right now. Make me come little bird,” he groaned dazedly.

He felt his face contort in pleasure while his breath became even more ragged, with the burnt side of his face twitching almost violently. By the look on Sansa’s face, she too was soaring high on pure ecstasy by looking at his arousal through heavily lidded eyes. Her lips were parted in a perfect O of pleasure, her cheeks red and her swollen breasts heaving up and down in her own pleasure. Suddenly, all thoughts of dream Snow were forgotten and all Sandor cared about was that he was sharing this intense feeling of complete and utter bliss with the woman he loved, his little bird.

“Sansa . . . fuck me harder, _please_ ,” he moaned. Wanting, _needing_ her to help release the blissful pressure building inside him. His cock was already hard to the point where it was leaking all over him, his balls were clenching rapidly in molten ecstasy and Sansa started thrusting into him roughly, jerkily, hitting that wonderful place inside that made him want to come hard now.

“Sandor look at me, look at me,” he heard his little bird plead with him. He hadn’t realized his eyes had been closed against the intense pleasure he was experiencing.

His eyes flicked opened and they locked onto Sansa’s. They were now looking at each other deeply; her dark-blue gaze dazedly filled with lust as she fucked into him, just as he knew his was too.

Without warning, Sandor’s release literally exploded out of him, making him roar his climax as he jerked his hips hard against his wife while she moaned loudly, the sounds of their pleasure rising high into the room and mingling into one beautiful perfect song of intense ecstasy.

Sandor saw stars and then darkness slowly engulfed him as he felt the blood rush into his ears – like the unending waves of the sea crashing against hard jutting rocks.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, _yesss!_ ” Sandor moaned as he climaxed high as the seven heavens, all coherent thought lost, his cock pulsing so hard, his balls clenching painfully as Sansa still kept on working the silver cock inside of him, milking every ounce of pleasure his body had to give, his hand still stroking his swollen member heatedly while his seed was spurting hot all over him. “Sansa . . . Sansa . . . Sansa” he groaned loudly before he gasped, his chest heaving hard, his heart beating so fucking hard he thought all of Winterfell would be able to hear it while it sounded like the rolling thunder in his ears.

Slowly, Sansa stilled between his legs and Sandor stopped stroking himself, giving his cock one last long pull before he remained motionless, his softening member still hot and heavy in his hand. His seed had spilled all over his stomach and lay in sticky white spurts all over. Dimly, he became aware that Sansa had taken the hard silver cock out of him, making Sandor feel strangely . . . empty.

He let his legs drop back onto the bed with a grunt, while his hips were still propped up. His left arm was now lying limply over his damp brow, while his right arm rested over his heaving stomach, sweat covering his large, strong body. His breathing was ragged and coming in hard and fast and he was trying to calm the wild beating of his heart. Fuck him, this had never happened to him before, even when he was in the middle of a hard fight, hacking and killing left and right, when the bloodlust was on him.

He felt Sansa climb back into bed with him, her light weight pressing him onto the soft feather bed while her hands busied themselves over him, washing the seed lovingly off of him and off his now flaccid member. “Little bird . . .” he was still breathless.

“Shhhhh my love . . . there is no need to talk.” He heard her say. So he stayed quiet, letting her finish washing him, feeling the cool, wet cloth going between his arse cheeks, making him suddenly hiss at the slightly burning feeling.

Sansa went back to the washbasin and he could hear the soft tap of her feet on the flagstone floor. Sandor’s heart was slowly starting to still, his breathing returning to normal, but his body was trembling.

His wife came back to bed with him, the silver cock back into its silken bag, and she kissed him deeply, while his hand went to the nape of her neck, bringing her mouth closer to his as his tongue played with hers wetly, making her moan into their kiss.

She then took off the pillows from underneath him and snuggled into his arms. His hand reached for her swollen belly again, stroking her lovingly there. She was showing more and more every day and he could now see the little pup stretching underneath her belly, could see the waves a small foot or a small hand could create. Sandor was always amazed when he saw her belly distend while she would always laugh about the fact that he was so enraptured with the changes happening with her. He felt so much love for her, for his little bird, for his unborn pup, that it was sometimes overwhelming.

She squirmed harder against him, resting her head in the crook of his arm while her hand went back to entwining itself into his dark chest hair again. She loved following its trail from his chest to his groin and going back up again, making his skin prickle with goose bumps.

“Sansa,” he said again, this time his breath had somewhat returned to him but his entire body was still shaking. “This was so fucking incredible. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

She giggled against him and hugged him closer to her while she threw her left leg over his, slowly moving her hips against him to get some friction over her nub. Sandor started caressing her all over, his hand going to her breasts, thumbing the hard little peaks of her nipples, making her moan against him.

Then he shoved his hand between her legs, where he found her more than wet and willing for him. _Oh gods, she’s practically dripping for me!_ He shoved two of his big fingers inside of her, making her moan loudly while his thumb started rubbing her painfully hard little nub.

In no time, her whimpers had hitched higher and she was moaning loudly “More, harder, oh gods yes!” to him while her hips bucked wildly against him.

“Make me peak Sandor, oh gods, yes please, make me peak!” Oh fuck, he was getting hard already! He quickly turned her around so he could enter her from behind while they were both lying on their sides. Throwing her right leg back over his hips, he entered her, thrusting up and forward into her wet cunt, making her moan again in renewed pleasure.

His cock was so over-sensitized every jerk of his hips into her was already sending him over the edge.

“Sansa, I’m already nearing little bird, I won’t last long.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she moaned, “I’m- I’m already there,” she whimpered loudly and then she slammed her hips hard against him and he felt her cunt squeeze his cock rapidly, her body convulsing against him, making him slam into another powerful release.

Sandor groaned loudly as his cock pulsed inside her tight, wet cunt. Making him gasp in agonized pleasure while she moaned loud and clear. Her head turned toward him, her lips searching for his. He quickly covered her mouth with his own while his arm was holding her close to him, while she clutched onto him possessively.

They ground their hips against each other desperately while their bodies were being rocked by the aftershocks of their simultaneous pleasure. Sandor was kissing Sansa deeply when he decided to leave her needy mouth to shower her neck with warm, open-mouthed kisses, making her sigh deeply in contended pleasure.

“Little bird, my beautiful Sansa,” he managed to groan against her soft skin while peppering her with warm kisses against her neck and her hair, causing her to giggle in mirth and making his heart soar with love for her. “I love you.”


End file.
